Yesterday I died. Tomorrow I will die. Vacuous lapses of time in between dreams, sleep, and sadistic sex. Stolen idols, broken libido, a divine cockroach stare – darting eyes and skeleton smiles. Things fall apart and the center cannot hold... and I so long to hold the rotting remains of you so tenderly in my arms and hum you that Russian lullaby you softly sang to me one snowy day long ago when I almost died.
It seems as though every night I dream of Xibalba. I vaguely remember excited voices around a crackling fire casting shadows into the howling jungle all around. The canopy above echoing with the shrill shriek of demons and above these demons a jealous moon carved of ebony and tears. Blood-red rivers and lakes of pus, and a forest of writhing bodies impaled on sheared bamboo and….
My god what became of us?
You and I were a fairy tale - a beautiful fable. Except fairy tales are supposed to end differently then we did. The princess did find her prince and the prince turned out be a cancerous fucking coward.
I miss you. I do.
There is nothing left of you now except the part of you that resides inside the solitary tree which grows in the recesses of my distant memory. And my eyes turn upwards to the sky, to an approaching star which is dying by the millenia, a sparkling nova cast in shades of yellow and brown - the Mayans named this place Xibalba.
When I reach my destination I promise you I will find you so we may be reborn as cats….
14 comments:
...and the prince turned out be a cancerous fucking coward.
A coward or an addict? There's a difference ... one can make more excuses than the other.
Your tuzik may return to you, Hermes.
Then what?
All addicts are cowards, Rose. Every single one.
And if she returns to me then we will see if I am still a coward... Or if I've been fooling myself this entire time.
I agree. All addicts are cowards. And so is she, so don't waste your time blaming yourself.
You know what I see? I see a man who is reflecting on the perfect "turning point" in his life and it didn't go the way he had anticipated.
This woman is yours, Hermes. She's yours always. Time is not. And it's not your tuzik you want back ... its your time ... the life you had before.
Question is ... Is she worth your time the second time around?
"Divine cockroach stare"!!! I love it! Can I use that?
if you come back as a cat you can only hope that she returns as a mouse.
i love how people try to define that which we cannot. if we had definitions about love and why we love our loved ones so...well, we wouldn't be in this mess, now would we.
i thought this was beautiful, as it embraces love in all its imperfection.
WRITE SUMPIN'!!!!!
I think what g.d. means by "people" is "rose" since I'm the only one who has thrown out a definition of what's going on here ... :)
Now ... back to my imperfections.
IF she will return...
she is a ghost in your past now brother. its hard, i know, but let the weary rest.
"Yesterday I died."
Obviously - cause ya ain't posting nuthin!!
Xibalba. The Fountain. I love that movie. I like the Russian lullaby thing. I'd prefer to not be reborn at all again, maybe even wander the realm of hungry ghosts, but I probably am already there.
See that you dropped by the sister-in-law's site for pastries.
This sounds like a strange comment, but we know each other, eh?
Write something.
Please.
seriously!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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