Breakfast on the morning after losing a Soulmate

It was that day when the wind stopped blowing, grandmothers forgot their stories and babies refused to be born. My pretty mouth disproved the lies that reside just on the other side of your skin. There is a pocketful of frenzy calling me lover when I don’t even remember who she was, as she passed through five years of my nights. I wanted it so bad that I think I messed it up even before it had began. Without recourse, they move away from each other and into the darkness of solitude. It would cost me too much to love you the way that you love to live with, inside all those bandages. Standing above the crowd, she thought fondly of the missing piece to the puzzle.

"We will miss him after all," she said.

The music was so loud that they could not hear themselves thinking of anything but the beat. Someone handed them some kind of pill, which they washed down with a smile. It is not over until it is over, like when the Fat Lady lays out a big old yelp and war-whoop. Standing above the crowd, on a pedestal made out of copulating compliments and torn underwear, she made a leap for the stars and fell over into the arms of a mob. He had a lot of nothing to say rather quickly and then kept to himself for the rest of his pitiful life. Instead of a bang, the whole damned thing just whimpered out and there was really no more excuses left to talk about, so they packed their bags and went their separate ways. There will be no drowning in this pool, tonight.

"Did you switch your laundry until it screamed for mercy?"

"Until it was wound around my arms and folded into piles in trunks."

"Who will mind the children while we are away?"

"I forgot, where are we going?"

"We are already there."

Belief is something that they used to shoot into the veins of patients just before they stepped over to the other side. The big black bird sat on the fence and stared at us like he knew us. Let us swim in the bile of our mistakes and make amends with the ground as it gives way to the end. The electric bug magnet hums in the background.

"Have you ever had sex with God," she asked, one afternoon, "and was it as good for you as it was for him?"

I didn’t know what to say. I tried to look like the question did not bother me. We tried to pretend that the question did not try to make us feel uncomfortable. We shift in our chairs.

"Jesus, we are naked again. I come over here to break up with you, at least once a week, and what happens? We end up in bed, making love like it was a peace treaty in the American West. There is no lie that I would like to sleep next to, if you were to ask."

"I didn’t ask."

"I noticed. I tried not to, but I did notice. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Get on your knees and kiss my sores. Fuck me like there is no tomorrow, because there isn’t."

"Remind me again, so I can remember how I felt when I first saw you."

The hurricane took hostages and gave birth to disaster. There was nothing to say. There was nothing to feel, but pain. Jackals and humans walk through cold and isolated streets, searching for a fix in the dumpsters and the back alleys of Reality.

"I will pray for you, and play with you if you think it will make you feel any better. I will make false promises and worship fake prophets, if it will lead me back to you. I will make myself so sorry that they cannot claim the body from the debris. These things are the little ones that kill. You say that I have made excuses into my home, and all I have to say is that there is more room in a treehouse than one can imagine. You should take my word for once and quit trying to pretend. Terror and shame always make us feel like dancing later into the night.

"Each time that I sold my soul to you, I wanted you to say hello and goodbye in one day. Each time that we never made it past tomorrow, I wondered if there would be milk in the cereal of our dreams and fantasies in our pants. Searching for a razorblade to cut open one of your fabrications, I cut myself on the last time we talked, the time we fought and never spoke to each other again without doubting the other person. I can see the paper-thin ghost of your face on the back of my mind. Meet me down by the river, and I will give you an idea about what you could have been thinking, if you were thinking like me. It is all too obscene to me.

"The mean motherfucker made a victim out of me, shoving me to my knees, holding a .45 to my head. I knew there was nothing like love to make a girl happy. I knew that. I did! I did. I swear to you. I swear to you, my god, why won’t you believe me? You never believe me. I tell you the truth most of the time and you never believe me."

Ghosts don’t eat the tired and hopeless. Lightening that cries on steak 10am until 10pm tells a story more in command than without a Monet of my own, then the evil Everybody’s moment comes along and tears away at the stitches, lying like a screeching hyena.

"I used to have a girlfriend that was easily under my control. I could make her cry without much of a hassle and then the best part was the kiss and makeup, the fuckup and forget resolution. I wish that I had those fragile days going for me again. I wish that I knew what it was that I was missing. There is nothing like being on the rebound. Nothing pleases you more than the feeling of denial."

"I can feel you tightening against my walls. I can feel you making a move on the fortress. I know when you are about to make that funny squinting face and make your play. I cum on the feeling of your cum. Do me like you know that I know that you know I know how. This confusion is nothing but another stranger passing me on the street, waiting for the light to change, hoping that these things happen all the time. I am longing for the exploration of tomorrow, over and over again. "

"I am almost tired of listening to you. When will you be through with me? I would like to know."

"It is completely unfair how you sit there and stare at me. You never say anything to me. Sitting there with that big smirk on your face, saying nothing, I could kick the living shit out of you if there was anything that I could say that would mean anything to anybody but me."

Of course, we leave it at a comfortable level of hostility, just for the convenience of the moment. I think that we are long overdue for a vacation. I certainly hope that we will see the end of this war, this pitiful three-ring circus freak show of polished answers and lukewarm surprises. When the bombs begin to explode and the pages begin to burn, I will remind you about the time that we swore this disaster would not be seen during our lifetime. Have your way, I will still respect you in the mourning. Don’t just come here laughing and sucking down the moments like stiff cocks on a back alley trick. Love is the mess that you made. Sour vomit on the bathroom floor.

razee@razee.com

Razee Ink 2000-2009

 

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