April 28, 2013

Lace yourself in booze and loose clothing and make sure to let go of your petty insurgence. No one likes an anarchist in a time like this. Before you stand, lift your eyes in that slow motion way that you'd always like to use to your advantage, what with your modest magnetism. Keep your mouth ajar because you know I'm too far from keen on your compression. And do not close your eyes. Move aside, a small step around the hypothetical obstacle, to make clear the path leading directly from me to you, then three small steps past the physical obstacle, because we'll absolutely need you over here instead of there. Now don't move at all. All this in such a speed that's clearly appropriate. All this in such a speed that makes the greatest of romance movies look like they were written with such a haste and uncertainty that it called for nothing more than a urged hand-hold rather than the desired slow-motion passion that they had originally foreseen. All this in such a speed that makes me feel like I'm waiting a lifetime for this standstill I've lead you to, before you appear precisely before the tip of my nose; This is exactly how I've imagined you. Next, answer those questions clouding your mind because we can only go forward if we act quick; Your silly little questions. Fake a flinch in spite but cover yourself in imitating fear and meet me halfway. You have a delicate mouth and you smell nice when I'm close to you; The kind of nice that makes the guitar riffs of my favorite song seem a bit more smooth and metrical, solely because you're present. The kind of nice that I feel when, by way of the wind, your hair is slightly brushing past your face and it tickles your nose but makes me laugh rather than you. The kind of nice that people think you aren't just because of how rude they assume you are. You aren't rude, you're clumsy. Like that of the very next moment when you drop your glass and let it shatter across your toes before declaring your embarrassment, ruining the entire scene and setting. Light up a cigarette and let it burn to breathe it in. Squint your eyes in that inviting way to make your face seem just the same. Press your lips and loosen them just as repetitively and quickly as the second before. Pretend to repeat the process as if those are the only actions allowed taken to fix your quiescent, little problems. Undercover again and overzealous again.
There are rules and regulations, trials and tribulations, but not one of them paid a visit since the day you held my hand; The day you turned innocence into ecstasy.
These brittle bits of bones withhold everything but a mere determination to take it and run. What's hardly shown is how you stow away the quickening of your eagerness.
What's left alone can only emulate the shattering of your glass and my thoughts, and the burning of your smoke and my courage.
I remember everything you've ever recited as if every moment we had was to be our ever-last.