There Are A Lot Of Things

26 Dec

I just can’t help myself sometimes. I blurt things out, and sometimes they’re to you, and I’m not talking about that; it really was a mistake. This isn’t just to you. This is to you, too; you, the reason I now compulsively hover over every link and picture to check that there isn’t more to gobble up, for you… I confused myself that this was for you, as well; you, the person I confused myself over for a few long, flavourful weeks, and I’ll just give up now.

There isn’t any more to gobble up, and I’m sewing the pieces together, and sometimes I wish there was just a bass line underneath it all, and the wish that that would not have a deeper meaning and the deep yearning need for it to have one after all are tearing me apart.

This is to you – I will not give up now – this is to you; I know you read this. I’m sorry for everything.

This is to you, though. I want it to be. I forget all about everyone else sometimes. That worries me. Am I losing them? I might need only you and that and those, but them…

I’m falling asleep. I’m falling asleep. I can’t keep my eyes open, holiday binge, weekend binge, I do this all the time, whenever I get a chance, I’m falling asleep.

I want to cry. I want you- I did it for you when she wasn’t there, I did it for you, can I take that back can you give it to me because I think I need it now, someone to take into confidence, then disappear, double comma, end sentence, you too.

You taught me lessons I didn’t want to learn, and many slash some in a way that I still feel is inappropriate slash completely irrelevant. I hope you read this and you understand it but you won’t.

I am falling asleep.

I just gobble it all up until there’s nothing left. There isn’t any more to take, take, this season, take take this season, King Arthur falling apart I want to cry.

You say beautiful. Do you really mean that? I’m not.

I say beautiful. I really mean it. You are.

This is for you, after all.

I’m sitting here and I hope you got that, what I sent you, I hope you got it, I wish you’d gotten it earlier when you read this, I wish you’d gotten it right away, I wish I could make you stay all the time we’d be alone college you said alone.

College. Sick. I feel sick. Lashing out, writing prose, room, stifling. Lashing out.

I want to, sometimes. Or it almost happens, sometimes. I never really want to. You, with the wonderful hair, you, I wonder why she broke up with you I don’t see it, you; you did something annoying, and I nearly broke.

I don’t break. I never break. Do I break?

If this were a voice, would I hear it; would I listen? I listened last time, forty minutes, just like you, I want that, please, give that to me please I need you more than I need you because I need you; for that very same reason.

I feel sick.

I don’t see them. I don’t see them or you anymore, I never see you, I won’t see anyone, I can’t see anyone. I’m more blind than you know.

I need to throw up. I need a moment of release, I need lines for control if you say so if you say so I’ll do whatever it takes. I need to categorise. I need a moment’s silence and no clicking, I need a moment’s silence under the stars, I need to yawn and be filled.

If this were a voice, I feel sick, I would listen. I say beautiful. I say forget it.

I say forget it all. College. I feel sick. Sometimes I blurt things out, but I’m sewing the pieces together as they all fall apart. I said I saw you in an outline of light, golden light centre of my being next to you church pew lying there fantasy lying there I could have kissed you. It would have been messy in only a very figurative sense of the word.

Do I break? You’ve certainly had the opportunity to test me lately. Do I break? I’m sewing the pieces together and it’s impossible to know where this is going. I feel sick. I would listen, I would listen, of course I would listen. I say forget it. Everything.

Forty minutes…

You are beautiful.

(It was too silly.)

(But it wasn’t.)

(I’d do it.)

(If.)

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