ResistedNormalcy

This is the locked box of things unsaid. These are the dreams of a wallflower brain, holed up in some bar of invisibility, where nobody speaks or sings or talks about the money they’ll make or the pussy they’ll score but instead lies down on the wooden floor and falls asleep. As if to say: I dream of a quiet exchange. I dream of talking to you without speaking. I dream of touching you and saying, Darling, it’s all right. I’m okay. We’re going to live forever.

This is the furtive labyrinth of our love. Here are the winding stairwells and lost attics where we go to be alone together and to get forgotten for a while. Let’s fall off the face of the planet. Let’s go spinning through space like kamikaze pilots with no tether to bring us home.

Filed under: Blather on June 12th, 2007