The Sun sees all of your best moments. The Sun has never seen your nighttime activities, your most debaucherous encounters. But the Moon has seen all of it- every drunken stumble, every flirtatious conversation, every scantily clad ensemble, every docile limp to grab a 2 am water.
Sometimes I sit on pure dirt, an actual hill of dirt, in beachwood, and I watch the clouds. Not in a romantic way, but in an attempt to detect which ones are manufactured and which are real. I’m getting very good at it.
They are like smiles, from people out here. I scan the skies quiet bruising as if I am detecting mutant kindness. Pacified, petrified, lacking sincerity. Who is a mutant? Who is gone? There is an invisible enemy. It came from another dimension. It hops, travels, jumps. But magic without real love is just technology, just external. It can’t be sustained.
Magic with love can traverse all previous damage.
Sometimes I watch the sky, and I am comforted by the notion you are beneath the same one- however false. Like a distant bride of stars and sun, stifling through dunes of delusion, delirium. I am trying to extracting fact from fiction, erasing metals from every cell of my body, forking out grief, as if it is an incessant orchestra that enters every room. I believe in you and god equally because you both seem to be in every room I’m in.
They say the best way to predict the future is by creating it. I am paralyzed by this, immobile, incapable of drawing conclusions out of fear that they could impact something so important.I would like to think of myself as unforgettable. Not necessarily the softest, nor the easiest to digest. Ephemeral, seasonal, mercurial. But growing, improving, steadily. Loyal. Not the prettiest but the most interesting. I owe you a kiss and a kick in the nuts.
It’s been an apocalyptic year, a year of religious revelation, a year of unprecedented growth impossible to turn back on. I put a lot of faith in the make-believe. I may have macro dosed delusion. May have given in to antiquated paradigms of regret and mistrust. I have dislodged the succubus energy that was nestled in my sacral, harvesting male attention. Drawn the conclusion that male attention is abundant and of low value.
Women are seasonal and changing, and I hope you can forgive me now that I am growing up a little bit. . I think i loved you before I knew you, even.