II: I’d like to know where you go :II
At 14:22
I make myself tea
from some of the leaves
I’ve managed to keep dry
between the pages of a book
I wrap a blanket
around my legs
and I sit down
in my ergonomically friendly chair
to write
Little did I know
that turning the shape of my torso
into the letter “S''
would have such an impact
At the present moment
I’m a firm believer
of keeping a position
where your head is straight,
your eyes are focused,
and your jaw is relaxed
You know
whenever my jaw is clenched
I’m reminded
I’m trying too hard,
including being too forceful
with these routines
That can really make me feel
like an extra
in my own life
Sometimes I just feel
secondary to the plot
That I’m the kind of person
who resides in the peripheries
of any bystander’s
attention span
Actors,
they’re not there
to merely mimic
natural expression
and plausible scenarios
they act to create tension,
to tie a thin rope down your throat,
and gently pull up your intestines
one by one to lay them out
on display for you
But recently
I’ve come to learn
that I am necessary
to a greater plot
At 14:30
I start my writing session,
just like a pianist
who dexterously spends hours
warming up her fingers
through repeating scales
and memorizing the work
of other composers,
computing apprehension to detail
I’ve learned that
14.30 is the exact time
when I’m well able
to veer into my own work
In my writings
I like to revisit places
and situations
In the past year
these places have become more
tantalizing
They’ve been coated
with a pungent flavor
hard to really place my finger on
I know
that the voice
speaking to me
is leading me through
imaginary landscapes
for a purpose
that is not mine
The memories aren’t mine
but I lend her stories
from my life
There is not much conversation
between us,
it’s an intuitive act
and therefore it’s crucial
that I start at the exact same hour
every day,
one that I’ve come to know
as a playful and light hour
I’m unsure whether her place
really exists on this earth,
but it feels very familiar
She feels familiar
It feels too easy to say
that I feel like we know each other
“from a past life”
but I say it anyway
I find comfort
in documenting her version
of a life
One day she tells me;
She writes portraits
Or rather
she has found someone
who writes them for her
She considers herself a compiler of assets
Her collaborator could be
compared to an archivist
Someone who analyses content
It was no easy task to find someone
suitable
for the extent of her documentation
Sometimes she asks herself,
why recompose something so compostable
as the memory of someone?
When you miss someone,
what is it, you miss about them?
An image, a picture?
Where in your presence do they reside
when you forget about them?
The way they look at you when they ask;
should I get you a coffee?
Their voice on the other line,
breaking up through a weak connection,
telling you they are on their way,
and the way they smell
when they come pick you up from your work
Waiting outside,
the way they look
at the people passing by
and the passers by
gaze on them
How they speak
to someone over the counter
You lock eyes,
for the first time
How did they feel the first time you touched?
The way they get dressed,
asking for your opinion,
what color suits them the best?
The way they undress
How they fold their clothes
after they’ve been washed
Open the fridge, open a window,
ask for a lighter, gaze at something odd,
in the periphery of your shared frame
Is it the way they touch you
when they try to reach you,
reach through you,
that stays
when everything else has departed?
There I sit
in the tranquil bath of
efflorescence
All whilst the surroundings
keep bashing the pulse
of ambulance sirens,
children screaming
from a nearby school yard,
dogs beating their tails
like little whisks
in a batter full of
freshly cut grass
Keeping my eyes closed
I envision someone
passing me by,
perhaps in the company of a small dog
running up to me,
clumsily with its tiny paws
making harmless scratches
on my bare knees,
and me exchanging a few words
with its owner
Maybe I make a comment
about the weather
that appraises
the shifting of seasons
Oh,
(“I could never really tell if that girl Cheryl was a flake or a flirt”)
the cherry blossoms
and their ephemeral life
that envelope me in their fragrance
I remember the line
in some old house track,
that lonesome statement repeating itself
like a broken record,
trying to create a mantra
that dissolves in the listener's
consciousness
as smoothly as honey
dissolves in hot water
Flake?
Flirt?
I bet Cheryl just wasn’t that into you
I bet she was busy
exploring life amidst the brief
blossoming period
of a month a year
Was it all just a
sophisticated déjà vu?
The things she had seen before
was perhaps just a
confused hippocampus?
It’s not that I roll back my eyes
and let her demon possess me
Our deal is that I
create new stories
and narratives
from fragments of her life
She holds the seeds in her hand
and I tell her
where to disperse them
I am her ghostwriter
But she is the real ghost
Our roles really confuse me sometimes
When things get to my head
I like to chew eucalyptus gum
and light some incense
that smells like a herbalist
got abducted by a team
of researchers from Primark
to formulate
a scent for their
loungewear section
It’s not very far off
I actually got my incense
from the TK Maxx-store
opposite my flat
It was just there,
in the abandoned mess
on the floor,
a few months back,
when our pipes had started to freeze
Today I light the incense
and I tell myself;
I need to set my own boundaries
I make time for her
similar to my therapist
making time for me
in their calendar
With patience,
understanding
and a firm border,
and not with bewildered compassion
When I once ask her about all of this
composition of self,
she tells me this:
<3 - 2023-12-29 13:36:28 - <3<333333
adolphus50@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:37 -
- 2022-10-06 00:56:37 -
adolphus50@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:35 -
joan14 - 2022-10-06 00:56:35 -
Developer - 2022-10-06 00:56:33 -
Developer - 2022-10-06 00:56:25 -
shannon_boyer@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:09 -
- 2022-10-06 00:56:08 -
shannon_boyer@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:06 -
joan14 - 2022-10-06 00:56:05 -
shannon_boyer@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:03 -
joan14 - 2022-10-06 00:55:57 -
118 Yundt Burg - 2022-10-06 00:51:14 -
- 2022-10-06 00:51:14 -
118 Yundt Burg - 2022-10-06 00:51:13 -
Suite 574 - 2022-10-06 00:51:12 -
118 Yundt Burg - 2022-10-06 00:51:11 -
Suite 574 - 2022-10-06 00:51:03 -
lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:45 -
- 2022-10-06 00:50:44 -
lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:43 -
nico.franecki@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:42 -
nico.franecki@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:40 -
lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:38 -
lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:21 -
- 2022-10-06 00:50:19 -
lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:17 -
baylee_harris@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:15 -
baylee_harris@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:13 -
lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:08 -
E - 2022-04-11 00:22:06 - so beautiful
- 2022-04-11 00:21:49 -
- 2022-04-11 00:20:38 -
*_* - 2022-03-31 12:01:05 - I love it!!