23.10.10

Eat, Sleep, Repeat

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the boy.

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is elusive, not wholly flesh and blood at times when i look at him through a fog of cheap drinks and smoke. his name trapped in the nib of a pen, i drag it across paper again and again. theboytheboytheboytheboy in black ink, green ink, a red sharpie on the edge of my feet. it must be love, it must be. a cardboard box heart filled with this pellucid love. i don’t care if he goes, as long as he comes back. do you know, there was this one night when he was so tired, but he stayed up watching me sleep. and when i woke up, he had finally drifted off, but his fingers were resting lightly on my cheek. i cry so much these days.

how do i cure this? the usual medication doesn’t work – liberal doses of strawberry ice cream, uninterrupted shopping binges, a wall of music, screaming until my voice is a scratched up record… and everyday i grow wearier. he said i am so predictable, a pattern, a rhythm in his list of unfinished songs.  i’ve never seen him play the guitar, i just realised. why?

i always thought i had a built in compass for these things. heartbreak approaching, move backwards. all those girls singing about counting iloveyous on rose petals and secret messages through bedroom windows. i knew. so many indiscriminate gestures return to slap you in the face.

the boy. replete with all the things that i said i wanted, all the things i said i was wishing for and yet. the nebulous recollection that when i was younger, i had a dream where i was crying and looking for someone i’d never met before. and eight years later, the jump and an oneiric feeling in the pit of my throat. here it is, i was right all along.

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