summer sweat
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Dum dum dum.
Please let there be a switch somewhere in my brain. Give me a chance to sleep.
If you're gonna die now, allow me to walk you for one last time. Ironic, and I admit, awkward, as it may seem to both of us, we'll end up watching the sun sink into the meadows, the horizon from where we once sat for the sake of avoiding utter boredom. I'll cut math without knowing really, and risk the record of overcutting, and maybe even dropping the damned core subject, just to watch you eat up a piece of meat and a meager sunny-side up egg. It's all junk, but it's fun junk, and to my sudden realization, and surprise, it is our funny, senseless junk time, not blatant boredom, because sitting down on the stone bench without anything would defeat the purpose of doing the walking thing, so, yeah, whatever, I forgot what I was supposed to say next, because the puppy was bitting my feet, and I dare not risk the chance of dying of Rabis; I want to die either by suicide, saving a poor animal's (not a person's) life, or fending off a lowly criminal. Or by sledgehammer through the nuts. Repeatedly, yeah. As that creepy woman said, with matching and equally disturbing dance, Kaboom. But, before all that happens, a walk, please. Did I just say please? I think I did. And that must mean I'm heavily in debt. Or I'm running over a past guilt trip. No, no, I have no conscience, yes? Hence, a frail heart, and a stone heart. A walk please, I ask of you. For the last time, I'll hold another hand, not because of anything specific or of great significance, but because I just want to. That's it. you can be anyone, anything, but with the still, slowly beating heart, then I will hold you for the remainder of the time. It's not for a long time, and I'm not doing it out of compassion, or love, or kindness, or some form of good riddance act. I want to, and for a long time, I have wished for one last dance along the stone walkways, and let the sun split us asunder. Yes, it's the sun, and I do hate it as much as you probably do. But then, it scalds us both, and my hand is easily affected, and you have probably sensed it a few times to many, since there weren't a lot of times we even looked at each other, much less, hold hands. I think we would've put ourselves on a death sentence if we ever did, since I killed already two puppies and a cat by just looking at them, and you, out of sheer frustration of me. It's funny, but that's one of the few things we have in common: we both want to kill me. But I can't look at myself, I've tried looking at a mirror, and then breaking it for the 7 years of bad luck, and nothing has happened. Probably because I already have bad luck. Haha. Hey remember that? Laughing. That's what we both enjoyed, without really hiding anything. It could be really funny, really sad, really awkward, really stupid, really ironic, really platonic, really.. us, and we'd laugh. Walk with me, please, once again, around the ribboned starlight. I say goodbye to all those, and I present to you this made-up paper flower, a breed of the fleeting cherry blossom. Tie it through threads of black silk, and then water up the orbs of a damsel in distress. Love, it is not, it's that something we had, I wished we still had, something we once were, something I wish we still were. Alas, this is the last, and the ride that's worth a measly token is about to end, and the toy car is about to swing to its last jolt, and finally halt to a stop. Sleep, shotgun, smile and subside. This is the most I've really said about you, and it'll be the last. Walk with me, please.
Exhale your last breath, and let the flame deteriorate and fade into the darkness, and both you and I will forever be in blissful ignorance. Dance, dance, dance little puppet girl. My game has yet to stop, but the threads are already thinning, and soon you'll be free, free to fly, to share, to live, or to fall down ungracefully to the wooden floor.
smiled at the sun again @ 6:23 PM,
