Every time I close my eyes it is your face which greets mine. I feel your hands caress my cheeks and comb through my hair in the gentle whips of the flowing wind. Your voice speaks to me in the songs of the bird, telling the endless stories of me and you to the whole world around him. I feel the warmth of your touch in the sun gleaming down upon my pale skin. Then, hearing a call I wake from my dream and find you are not beside me. My heart only imagines what could be, if I had such brash courage to whisper it into your ears. This is the desire of my eyes, to see yours meet mine in look of love that over time will never fade. So we shall never part our paths but instead, intertwine into a beautiful lane to stroll down upon hand in hand.
i just want to fix you
to fix somebody
but i know what its like -
to be fixed
it can feel like you owe your person a lifetime of debt
because when you thought you had nothing left
someone comes in wearing their invisible red cape
and they swoop in and save you
without even trying
without even knowing you were broken in the first place
ever heard of the tax collectors?
yes, the ones from the Bible.
the ones frowned upon just by hearing their names.
the stories of St. Matthew, Zacchaeus. both tax collectors and both redeemed. they are just few of the collective.
there were many tax collectors who had changed and followed the steps of Christ,
but not all.
since all of them are man, man is inclined to temptation and temptation is inclined to sin.
the remaining exploiters were not saved but condemned to roam hell for eternity.
but as they are wicked, they are also cunning.
they bribed the devil with their stolen riches for their freedom, to which the devil agreed,
but with certain conditions.
they are free to roam the earth, but they must bring back every soul who is indebted in any kind, in any way, to the devil.
now, the tax collectors walk the earth,
with little coins in their pockets,
invisible yet heard,
intangible yet felt,
looking for their payment to the devil.
but in times they are clumsy, they trip and spill their coins.
so, if you're lucky, you'll hear the tinkling sound of coins,
yet nobody will be there, and no coins will be rolling on the ground,
because it's time to pay your debts.
It's been a while since I last saw you. When I got a good look at your face, it's like everything changed and everything stayed the same, all at the same time.
It was six in a very cold evening. We shared a cigarette even though you had a cold and a nasty cough because that's what we usually did when we were together. We'd talk about how you were doing with college and how I did because that's what we do, at least, did.
After a couple of sticks, we got back to my place. I thought it was a bad idea since it'd bring up a lot of things but that's the last thing I thought of as you walked in my room.
You saw my mattress was on the floor because it was a new place and I couldn't afford a bed frame at the moment. Still, you took off your shoes and jumped on it, saying "good night" because you haven't had much sleep because of school. I got my extra pillow and I hit your butt with it and as I expected, you still didn't budge.
I whipped up some instant noodles since that's all I had and I knew you haven't ate yet and as soon as I got it on the plate, you instantly got up my mattress and just ate it all. You yelled and got mad at me for not warning you that the noodles were hella spicy. You rushed to my counter to get some water and I laughed my ass off.
I got up and grabbed my guitar and I sang Galway Girl and you told me you didn't like the new album. Still, I continued playing then you just sang along by the chorus.
The night went on along with a couple of more songs. You still had that graceful, thin voice even though you smoked a lot. The voice that I really liked a lot because it calms me. I even showed you that I still had that recording of yours singing that Lily Allen song in which I forgot the title and you scoffed at me for saving that track.
With all that, bursts of nostalgia came rushing at me. I looked at you and I could say it looks the same for you. Our eyes met and you smiled.
A bad idea popped in my mind but before dismissing it, I find myself leaning closer to you, and simultaneously, you lean close to me. I smiled and thought, we really do think of bad ideas. With that, I find my lips touching yours.
It goes on for minutes and you suddenly stop, move back and say we shouldn't because... I'll get your cold. I smiled and moved my face closer to yours again. You hit my shoulder with your hand and smiled, and kissed me again.
We lay on my mattress for a few more moments, thinking of what we did and if it was the right thing to do. A part of me says I missed this, another says this was a really bad idea and before I could make up my mind, you get up and tried to get your things. You said you remembered you had to go and do your school thing. I got up as well and I accompanied you until you got a ride home. I waved goodbye as you went for the bus.
Suddenly, I sneezed and coughed then I laughed. I laughed because I knew I caught your cold. And the worst thing is, I laughed because I knew a cold isn't the only thing I caught. I sighed then I smiled and I hoped that cold medicine could also take away the other things I caught....
Your veins hold stardust and we have the beginning and ending of time within ourselves. I'm not looking for more time or untarnished love. I'd just like for a quiet to come over me as it does when we sink below a broken surface. Matter belonging to my ancestors and of my unborn children, I return to simplicity that's so pure and so dark, raining a timeless, stagnant glory. A temperatureless void in space where infinity contains answers. Where we wed to one another to exist in inevitable, unquestionable cohesiveness. Where fear isn’t scary. Where it comes uncaptured and intangible. Where what's tangible is our cosmos souls. Your human ego and mine, left behind, and the forever living that you and I do, conforms to the human theocracy about Big Bang. Our indivisible held hands expel so much passion, heat, human, lively things that we create new life. This is the quiet. Take me to space, where it's a hum of stars. We can waste away into rebirth and recycle elemental allocations of consciousness and moral sounds.
Waking up in a half empty bed over three hundred and sixty five times within the year- it is no way to exist- pillows become men and women who’ve claimed a home in (t)his heart. Watch the bed fold as a map does, connecting sheet corners like state borders. A fullness, a security born in desire to lessen the space. While the man becomes engulfed to the realistically ghosted residents within (t)his heart, the three hundred and sixty five sunrises are seemingly the emptiest while on Holiday.
One muggy late September afternoon, a heavy grey cloud blanketing the sky, smothering the sunlight, I was not really heading anywhere with purpose; just walking along the paths amongst the high grass and trees that border the land between the houses and the valley fields.
It started to rain. Thick, heavy drops of rain, that fell directly down as if they’d been dropped through a giant metal sieve in the sky. I felt each rain drop hit me with determined force, dark spots appearing across my faded green t-shirt. I took shelter beneath an oak tree at the side of the path and listened to the sound of the rain as it pattered off the leafy canopy above and around me. Everything was otherwise still and silent.
The air was warm and filled with the sweet earthy scent of the dampening ground. The grass was bright lime green in the sun where shafts of sunlight speared the clouds. The leaves that sheltered me shone in low diffused light that filtered through the clouds and I admired the bounty of acorns that beaded the branches of the tree around me. I imagined busy grey squirrels scampering along the boughs, harvesting the bounty in their tiny claws, gathering their store for the long cold winter to come.
Unexpectedly, I felt secure; comforted that I was still able to harvest simple pleasures and peace, just by sheltering from rain beneath a tree. Nature sometimes has a certainty that is re-assuring to a troubled mind.
My thoughts turned to the coming autumn, with its landscape richly painted in burnished copper and bronze; the hedgerows burdened with the many wild fruits and berries that would nourish the wildlife through the harsh winter months to come.
I can categorically list the number of times you have been misused, unheard and trivialized. And as much as I might write about you, you are not a metaphorical representation of the moon or the sun, and my pen doesn't help. You are real flesh and bones, and the real you craves for coffee on Sunday summer mornings and likes sitting alone sometimes. You too crave for sex, with people whom you have just met and you also forgot my birthday once. You are not perfect, of course, you are not perfect, but you are not a gross indecency either. You are truly and finally someone I can love and my love demands to be written down on the most beautiful sheets of paper I own. My love demands to be handwritten on postcards that I have collected over the years for this moment and sent over the distances. But you see my love is also a little selfish and narcissistic, and since we are not in a brilliant and beautiful relationship, you are just another story I can tell myself before going to bed. One of those stories that demand to be told again and again.
Congratulations on making it this far. And good job on finding this page. It was hidden quite well, wasn't it? Your journey will continue now, but first I must warn you that you are being watched. Who is watching you? I can't tell. He is not a malicious creature, but he can be rather tricky to shake off. And he has quite a knack for making you lose your way. If you are tempted by him to wander, you should climb a high tree, find the red house and return to the start of your trip.
Now go, walk directly west from where you found this letter. You will eventually come across a snake. I would encourage you to speak to him. He will, of course, attempt to make a fool out of you, but he is nailed down to a tree, and cannot attack.
Turn to face North once again, and you will find a path. Along the path you will meet many young elves in search of their master that they have been told exists. And many homely witches, far too ill favored to even desire attention from an opinionated child like you. Speak to all that you meet, but do not ask for directions. Dine with the people whose company you favor, but do not drink. Always remember that the heart of the lovely harbor darker things than love, and that the thorns of a rose have potential to be the least harmful thing on the flower.
Walk the path 'till it is too exhausted to support you any longer. There you will find a cave. I have left the next page under custody of the bats. Speak to them to obtain it.