Drinking the Sand

Spent the past day with burning eyes (red). Last night with VJ and E-the-R. "Tear in my Beer" and "Don't Fall in Love with a Dreamer."

Tealux-- Vanilla and Jasmine.

And BH in shades of black. (The greased wire of the payphone coiling in my hands like a snake. The shadow of fluttering flyers on the pink sidewalk and that surge of jealousy-- those beautiful, perfect pink welts.) Shadows on the skin. And four more hours of wrestling on bricks.

The pain and the rage and the absolute pure pain that rises and falls in crests of pure, searing white. Blackening and blanking...blanketing everything in its salty, wet confusion.

And the fingers of my mind are pulsing and red as the rods slide out from under them. Going to a barbecue. Spinning between two realities-- which is fantasy is unclear. His smile and the lights of his eyes blink like two suns promising truth-- my twin suns (Schubert). How can they lie to me? But they do! (Drinking the sand, imagining it is water-- his desert eyes are scorching me... branding me...) Again?!?!

Honestly... I thought you were past all this crap.

And when it is all stripped away... all of my hope, my trust, my love, my sense of reason... I am an empty shell of hatred.

Hatred.