Tributaries IV: Sublimation

Mar 31, 2008 - 00:47 AM PST

((Published in vol. 5 of the creative writing journal "Juice")

i lull myself to sleep by thinking of ballroom dancers, spinning in dizzying circles, their skirts twisting tapestries in perfect unison, in so many colours. as they sweep the floor in seafoam and tangerine, i can let go.

i am not in my little fetal ball beneath the blankets, breathing hot air. i am not counting all the ways you could be killing yourself. i am balanced on guitar strings, and the sky is so blue i don't know if my up is down. i am falling down so far, but i will never learn to hit bottom.

in my dreams i lick cigarette smoke from your tongue. you will fall victim to my cancer. before i'm through, i will have eaten you from the inside out.

in restaurant booths i feel your hand touch mine, my bare feet up your pant legs, my mind distressingly filthy in your clean, sterile world. i will infect you like you've afflicted me. i want to make you ache for me. i want to make you bleed for me. and in these dreams you are never as broken as you are in the fragile world. in my dreams i know you are unbreakable, so i want to make it rough.

i want to bruise all of your flesh.

i want to not feel the scars on my heart.

in my dreams, before the dancers break their ankles, and i wake up, you take all my pain away. in my dreams, before the lights go up, you mesmerize me. i my dreams, before it all falls apart again, i am happier than i've ever been.