It's No Easier

Nine green glass portraits of Jesus and his mother are hot glued to tin foil and then mounted to a blue wooded cross. Forgive me, Father, for I have. . . A box of Sharpie markers, fine tips and broad tips, every color of the pride rainbow (redorangeyellowgreenbluepurple; non-stop, all one word, all six colors become one unified idea) and of the real rainbow (ROY G. BIV; Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet) and even some colors which are not found naturally. A blue Sony cybershot digital camera, whose charger hanges from it like a sick eletrical vine growing. At night I watch and re-watch my life as if it is being veiwed through the little, key hole, window of my camera. Play and re-play the small clips of video and pictures I took, thinking as I fall to sleep that I might escape this pattern of pointless self-tourture if I move the camera out of sight. I never do, because as much as it hurts to hold on, I can't even begin to imagine EVER letting go! A tiny picture of Bellerina in green velvet and almost translucent fairy wings, smiling with an impish glee. A ratty black terry cloth wrist band with three metal stars painted red. Past star, present star, oh and, yes, future star. . . I have a bruise on the palm of my left hand, right under my pointer finger, small and bright pinkish-red. I have a slightly purple-y one that seems more under the skin than most bruises on the tip of my nose, I can help but wonder if it will bloom darker as the days go.
Honestly, can I speak honestly for a moment? Is honestly something I am capable of at all? Can I be, when I am not sure if I was ever honest to myself?
How about, as honestly as I am able to speak?
I don't know who I am any more. I don't know the last time I did. I haven't slept in days, the burning dryness of my eyes and the disorienting glare over everything is almost comforting. One of the few things that seems an awful lot like going home. When everyone knows home no longer exist, home is no longer an option. I can't sleep because she came in to visit arround Christmas time and ever since she left my dreams are alive again. Dreams where I live a life in which there was no storm, nothing has changed other than the slow churning of life and I HATE to wake up because I lose my breath again having to realize I am 83 miles from my torn and bleeding life. 83 miles and a life time.

We Are Dying

Pressed against me, she holds on with both hands. It’s not like her to hold on that way, not like her to be so openly needed. When I had first walked up she was so cool, so casually detached. I wondered over it for only one moment and then...
Music and bad country singing, “Do you need another drink, baby?” It is as if our life is not SO very different, it is as if I have not lost her. I laugh and I notice her notice and smile at me, I sing along dramatically and I see her in the corner of my eyes. She watches as my mouth follows the words, she mouths them also and when I meet her eyes, once again, she smiles.
Hello, smile. There you are, oh my dear, dear God how I have missed you.
We leave feeling buzzed and in the end wind up sitting in a garage, listening to the radio and talking. It’s not our garage, not our little blue, shitty radio, not our lives anymore. But we are there, together for the first time in, for the first time in three months and twenty-three days. We are together where we were always suppost to stay, together. And when I ask what time it is and she coughs back a breath before answering, “5:15.” it breaks my heart to tell her good bye. I can’t.
I can’t just walk away from her, I love her. She is part of myself and I miss her SO much it burns me and I hurt with it.
Then I get up and start to walk away and she says, “Hey?”
“Yeah?” I turn back to her, hoping that my hurt is not so very clear. It always is to her, I am part of her.
I wasn’t prepared for her eyes to hold tears, I wasn’t ready for her bottom lip to tremble so slightly. It’s killing her just as it is killing me. “I - I,” a deep breath, “I miss you, I am going to call more and I will come home soon as I can and I will talk to you soon, I miss you!” A rush of words and then she is pressed against me, she holds me with both hands...