What filled the void

In the midst of hundreds he noticed hers. He noticed hers because it had a line. A line that reminded him of another line that marked an event that must have dramatically changed the life of a man he does not know except for a couple of square inches of skin just above his heart. A heart that froze for just a few moments a few years before she permanently marked the beat of a heart on her arm. And although the similarities made him notice hers in the first place, the differences now keep him busy. Hers has no flatline in between spikes. Hers is a steady beat. But is it hers? Does he want to know? Is past to be considered after all? Should a painter research his object or will it color his blanc canvas before the first stroke? Killing the potential, choking what could have been immaculately born. He needs to know because he wants to understand her, see the depths of her colors, all layers of paint, young and old. Her strokes, their strokes, the strokes she made holding and guiding their hands across the 4 dimensional painting that is her life. He wants to understand her because she needs to be the last one to paint on his canvas and the very first not to stop. Her right arm also speaks of lines. But these lines are about writing. Writing new words that fill in, complement, change, destruct or mend. Words he is familiar with. Words he sees, hears and feels. Words have always been his colors, his strokes, his melody, his light. It’s what filled the void between him first noticing that heartbeat on her left arm, and him first touching the tattooed pen on the other. A void that at one point stretched all the way to Africa, and words that were strong enough to reduce that vastness to the space between atoms that make up the ink with which they were written. And still are.

Frozen stuck in an awkward way

I’m glad we robbed that place the other day. It felt good to get out of the house and spend some time together. Too bad you had to shoot that lady though. I’m pretty sure it was a tic instead of her flirting with me. Oh well, it was nice to see you jealous again and learn you still care. We should do things together more often. Now that we have some money to spend, let’s go to dinner and see a movie somewhere next week. I hear they have 3D movies now where you get to wear special glasses that make everything seem real. You used to love going to the movies. Remember? Maybe you could try and swap one of your night shifts with Nancy. She works the days doesn’t she? Will you try? By the way, what did you do with that gun? I’ve read somewhere you should always get rid of the gun. No gun no murder. Or was that the body one should always get rid off? Can’t remember. My head is so clogged up these days. With daytime at the factory and your mother every evening, it seems there’s no time to think anymore. Especially with her going all crazy these last few months. The day before yesterday she lost her teeth. Guess where I found them? In the freezer! It took her half an hour to close her mouth after I jammed the damned thing in. For a minute there I thought she nicked someone else’s teeth. But they were just frozen stuck in an awkward way. You should have seen it. She was drooling so much her whole dress was wet. I even took a picture and showed it to Jimmy at work. We had a big laugh about it. You remember Jimmy don’t you? He’s the guy that took you home that night the car wouldn’t start and I waited another 2 hours for that tow truck to come. I still can’t believe our luck, running into him like that all the way out there in the country. Anyway, Jimmy didn’t show up at work today. Apparently his wife died. Poor guy! We should ask him over for dinner sometime soon. Help him set his mind of things. That reminds me, that doctor called the house again saying you still haven’t stopped by your mother’s to sign those persmission papers. We talked about this remember? I really need you to sign because there’s no other way to calm her down these days unless you want me to lock her in the bathroom again? But then you’d better get her a helmet because I ain’t cleaning up that mess again. So please don’t forget tomorrow?

Right then, enough jibber jabber. Bedtime for me.

Ps, try and swap a shift with Nancy okay? It’ll be good for us.

Polka dots and everything

You came dressed in words
Black ink hung over sweaty white skin
Salty and sticky
Conducting our electricity
Promising thunderbolts and sparks

Armed with the moon
You sharpened its cresent
Sliced open our rib cages
Took out two slippery hearts
Cupped warm in your hands
And synchronized them like clockwork

So I’m writing you this wardrobe back
Colorful dresses for special occasions
Polka dots and everything

For pancake breakfasts in the evening and wine in the morning
For the crowning of the chocolate cake contest king
Fall picnics on the warm hood of my car
Roadtrips with destination south’ish

And for our first big full blown fight
Smashing plates and screaming
Slamming doors and silent treatments
Making up and laughing it off
Convincing two scared cats
to come out from under the couch

Lay her bones down

At night I sometimes steal her bones
Throw over her skin like a bed sheet
Dancing around the house like a ghost
I sing her my thoughts too dark or too sweet for daylight
I see through her eyes and show her my world
Stop in front of mirrors staring
Slowly tracing her beautiful lines
My pumping heart in her beating chest
Dreamscaping memories I wish her to keep
Then when dawn comes I lay her bones down
Closing her eyes just before she opens them and wakes
Some mornings it seems I see a vague remembrance in her eyes
Of how perfectly close we were up to a moment ago

Rules of engagement

Let’s fly around the world
really put our hearts in it this time
Lock emergency exits
Slash the life jackets and all rubber boats
Cut the wires from our oxygen masks
Smash the radio unfasten our seatbelts
Eyes locked in blind rock ‘n roll faith

Let us trust let us fight
Love till we bleed
Salty sweat and sticky tears
Stitches and vaselined eyebrows
Skin bruised and scratched
Black eyes locked, not letting go

Don’t want no shootout
No cold sweaty hands
Or porcelain concentration
Anticipating every move
Listening for the slightest irregularity in your footsteps
Making sure it’s my finger that pulls the trigger first
A slowmotion bullet
Eyes locked as one of us drops

Cause if we must go down
Let’s go down in history
Let’s go down in style
And let us go together

A crash with no survivors
A double knockout
A big fucking bang

Photosynthesis

If you let me, I will gently and carefully wipe the tears that run down the inside of your cheeks and show you it will all be alright. I’ll pinch your brain, squeeze your lungs and kiss your heart to make you believe.

I’ll keep you warm to keep you safe
I’ll give you food to give you strength
I’ll have your love and have you remember

I’ll watch you walk to see you dance
I’ll listen to you talk to hear you sing
I’ll read your silence to understand your words

I’ll interrogate your cats to learn your secrets
I’ll water your plants and tell them mine

While the cats hold their breaths and the sun comes up, our secrets go down like carbon dioxide filling the room with oxygen helping us breathe as we dive deep into one another, fuelling the fire I hope won’t burn us at the stake.

Rectanglement

I’ll be frozen to you on the outside
Fogged on from within
To be your crystals in the morning
And see through your zillian grains of sand
I’ll leave you when the sun comes
But bring you back the moon
See it reflected in your darkness
As I start climbing up your corners
To be a curtain to your soul
The protection from your audience
To kiss your smooth glazed skin
And capture all of your reflections
Offer me your night time blackness
I will fill you with crystal constellations
Embrace you with foggy milkyways
For a promise of boundless rectanglement
With which you seemed to have framed my now shatterable world