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Sunday, September 14, 2014

Octopus

 I check in and out a hundred times a conversation. It's not you, it's me. And I do worry about getting caught, that covers a small percentage of the checkouts actually. Don't think it's an attention span thing as much as it is a weightlessness of mind in space. Truer even is that my mind is like an octopus; covered in tentacles... If you swim close enough there is no getting rid of you. So you shouldn't really underestimate my inability in letting you go...I worry about that too, cause the weight of the people and things hanging from my arms, from my tentacles, weighs me down. Cause people swim my way all the time, and they swim too close and I can't help my form. Sometimes I like to touch them and swallow them and keep them inside and not everybody understands that. Sometimes I need to let go and can't so badly that I end up cutting off an arm and letting them leave with it...

Tuesday, September 02, 2014

پاره ی تنم

دیشب که تب امانمو بریده بود و خواب به دادم نمیرسید یادِ خاکشیر و بارهنگ درست کردنایِ تو افتادم و کم درد داشتم وحشیانه دلتنگیمو گریه کردم، من که از اسرارِ طبابتِ تو سر در نیاوردم، با یک کاسه عسل راه میفتادی میگفتی‌ "بده دلتو ورچینم" یعنی‌ عسل بمالی رو دلم و با دست روش بکشی تا خوب شم یا اون قرصا که نمیدونم از له‌ کردنِ چند صد گیاهِ مختلف قد و شکل و رنگِ یه حب تریاک در میاوردی و میگفتی‌ که برایِ سر درد معجزه می‌کنه..به رویِ خودت هم نمیاوردی که میگرن‌هایِ مامان نقضت میکرد و باز میکوبیدی و ورز میدادی و گرد میکردی و میبخشیدی به این و اون. دیشب از غصه که داشتم می‌ترکیدم فکر کردم نیستی‌ که تیک پاره هام رو جم کنی‌ نگه داری برای روزِ مبادا..که یه روز از بقلِ اتاقت رد شم ببینم می کنیشون تو یه بالش همراهِ جورابای در رفتهٔ مامان که هدر نریم. تیک پارهایِ من بشن نرمیِ زیرِ سر مهمون...حقِ تورو که خوردن رفت، از اون بچه شیر خوره ای که ازت دزدیدن تا جفت طلاق‌هات ولی‌ تو غصه یِ همهٔ دخترایِ بی‌ شوهرِ شهر رو میخوردی و یادت نمیو‌مد سرِ خودت چه بلاها اوردن. بگذریم، من هنوز توانِ از تو نوشتن رو ندارم، هنوز هر بار یادت می‌افتم نفسم از گریه بند میاد و تنها چیزی که یه طورِ مریضی تسکینم میده آسودگیِ خاطر از این حقیقته که تو دوبار نمی‌‌میری. 

Sunday, August 31, 2014

School

I hope this rain stops, though if it were up to me, it would stop raining altogether and the lands would crack from dryness. not because i hate rain, i don't..there's just never a good time for it to rain. it's never not sad. even now that i get to watch it from the safety of my couch and not experience it. which reminds me, don't think i didn't notice you adoring me from a distance the other night. And  don't think i didn't like it. but that is besides my point. Fall rain is only reminiscent of one thing and that is the start of the school year. How I hated school and how i dreamed I would outgrow it. I didn't dream of growing up to be a so and so. I mostly thought of how i'd grow up to be a lover. that's all i've ever wanted to be really. to be a lover. I always felt I had a call for it, it's been a feeling under my fingernails. it's a kind of guilt you can't accuse me of or hold against me...it's a capacity or a talent I take pride and no shame in.  I did not see it coming, that even at a legal age, it can be wrong to love certain people or that number would matter, age, geography, gender, the quantity and quality of it would matter.  This world they've built is school all over again. Where you're tied to a bench and have to wait for a bell to ring to run free, to be tied to a bench again soon after...
I'm drawing up my own universe, watch how beautifully i succeed
"[It] really began in the days when the Love Laws were made. The laws lay down who should be loved, and how and how much" 

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Detox

the room is spinning, people fade in and fade out, i'm not there..I left an hour ago, I left before some guy sat next to me and hissed "take off your shoes" my stomach churns...I take off my shoes...i put them back on...I leave..I'm still there. I lie down on the couch, the men are talking, the pubescent grown men, about women and girls and getting them and fucking them and fucking more and getting more, from every colour and every size. like stray cats boasting over how many mice they can catch, they bond over their bloated definitions of manhood. my stomach churns, I roll over and throw you up.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Granada

10 pm Mexico city, lights out and sleepy time for a 5 am kinda tomorrow... My last night here. I'm standing in the dark kitchen barefoot, devouring a granada over the sink like a cave woman, with such passion and haste as if the exotic fruit was this whole short-lived experience I'm trying to swallow and take with me. do not leave my body , my love.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Ephemeral


There are certain people, to whom, the notion of time as the world knows it doesn’t exist…their clocks are armless and even though the sun rises and sets as it does normally, with them, in the air around them, the day dissolves into night and to day again like an impressionist painting. And when you enter their world and you sit with them you know you may never want to leave because for all its oddness that timeless-zone sucks you in...but they are charming for the permanence they deny you. for the temporality of their company and their world...for making you feel forever like the tourist. and one fine morning or rainy night that timeless world and it's god leave your life together...as abruptly as they had happened to you. like setting the clock back or turning it ahead for one hour. As if that whole hour didn't matter. Like the pointless effort of daylight saving on an already dying day.