A Notion of Paradiseparadise was;A Notion of Paradise
white we are, to white returning and pecked lines grew into form, forgiven over-eager punctuation and the melody fell as if governed by letter-gravity, no attention to 'humanely'- no humanity in white sorts of attention, and the moments of tidal hush, about the arc of an earth flux
plural we are, to plural returning and pressing for the particulars of hunger we have counted on this wilderness, amidst arrivals and departures and ill-footed landings, when everyone cries 'aberration' or other lazy branding, we have counted on this wilderness
the ways we destroy ourselves.one.the ways we destroy ourselves.
we were silences stretched out, lingering in the pitter-patter of muffled heartbeats. we were broken glass digging into too-fragile lungs, we were the shaking of the nervous earth beneath our feet. we were bitter unforgiveness and the screams of the world around us, we were empty spaces, we were
everything but beautiful.
two.
happiness is on vacation.
three.
life is a sidewalk, he told me. life is a sidewalk, and regret and pain and tears are the cracks,
and sometimes, he tells me,
f.ind .a wa.yyou came to me in a photoshopped mind-state and said "help me baby, help me", so I shoved you through the emergency-exit door and told youf.ind .a wa.y
"take all the meds you need to make the disease go away."
I keep my calendar on june/july
so that my brain can't s p l i n t e r the connection but you toss and turn with the bottle in your palm, "I need to be diagnosed."
you could crawl and linger in the corridors for me, but I know you'd never want to and you ask me "What is it that I have, my love?"
"Reality, baby. You never know when it may st
caution: police linewith the best of intentions he told me to breathe and i would not i wake up feeling sorry for myself because he had not offered something elsecaution: police line
guilt; i butcher he sews up with needles when band-aids would do shame; i kill he prays they will live when its too late
cookie-cutter ginger-boy sugar-girl vanilla extract the kind that smells nothing like it tastes
cream, no coffee his glass half empty sleeves, no shoulders useless over
abusive? i said no and with the best of intentions
ocean burning.one.ocean burning.
before she met you, she would reach for the sun while standing on the branches of trees, arms stretched towards the sunlight, reaching and waiting.
now, happiness is like a summer memory in the dead of winter - still there, but fading too fast to hold onto. now, she sits on rooftops with you at night, and the two of you watch as the city lights go out one by one.
two.
sometimes, when you laughed, she was reminded of the wind rushing through trees in winter - melodic and beautiful, but still cold, unforgiving.
the two of you watched the waves of the ocean take away t
--
You desire to know the art of living, my friend? Make use of suffering.
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