*gloomy*

Drabble #47 – Eye Wrinkles

Let’s talk about the meaning of life (get all existential with each other). You can hold my hand and I can pretend to hate it. Let’s sit together on a Tuesday night and just mess around, tweak with the dials on our limits and test the waters of our tear ducts. Let’s get the steps out of the way and remember how to dance. With names like ours we don’t even have to ask. Just break and break again, rebuilding ourselves in the shadow of each other so we always resemble someone dear in the mirror.

Drabble #44 – Fall with certainty (soft as simplicity)

There are approximately 206 bones in the adult human body and I can feel every single one chattering beneath my skin when I’m around you. Our left lung is slightly smaller than our right in order to make room for the heart, and I think it’s just going to have to get used to the squeeze. I can feel you taking up all the space in there. Touch the soft webbings of my fingers, my skin longs for you there. I want to love the sweet truths right out of your lips, but I’ll take what I can get from you.

One day, I happened to bump into a jellyfish. I asked the jellyfish where it was going. The jellyfish said that it wanted to go someplace warmer, but it can’t go there just like that, so it didn’t know how to answer my question. It said that it was just a tiny jellyfish that goes wherever the waves push it. Someone once said: “If you use yourself, you won’t be able to finish cooking a meal,” And then asked me if I liked jellyfish dishes. After seeing the terrified look on Jellyfish’s face, I didn’t want to reply, “I love eating spicy jellyfish dishes,” So I said to the jellyfish, I too feel like I am drifting towards somewhere. I hate this, how my body feels like it’s losing its memory. Because it can’t remember anything, it feels very sad. I am like you as well… a jellyfish that is stuck in old memories and drifting towards somewhere. I asked, “Do you like jellyfish dishes?” Jellyfish replied “What are you talking about? It is the same as debris washed away by waves. Just a simple jellyfish, why would you ask it questions like that?” The jellyfish then lit a cigarette and slowly drifted towards an unknown place. The jellyfish left while asking me to try new Belmont cigarettes and then, like a puff of smoke, slowly vanished. I’m leaving my memories behind and floating away like Jellyfish to a scary place. This was only a vague wisp of an encounter in the dusty corner of our consciences. We dreamed. We ate. We spoke. We laughed.

We laughed.

Drabble #46 – Singing songs (just to sing the songs)

I’d never realized how reliant on my alarm clock I had become until I didn’t have it. It unnerved me more than it should have, knowing that I would just wake up at any time. What if I slept more than I needed to? What if I slept forever? What if I never woke up? I don’t know what my parents would do. Maybe they would regret borrowing my alarm clock for the night. Maybe they would regret not borrowing it sooner. They’d never say that out loud but it would linger on their breaths, a sin mouthwash couldn’t cleanse the lie out of.

Drabble #45 – Purple stars (they're in your eyes).

You sigh like a receding tide, all smooth seas and soft waves. But your touch is that of a traffic-clogged highway, quick and bustling, sweeping through your body and then settling out. I could fire shots into the sky for you until I run out of bullets or I get tired, but I would still be left with the gun. It’s the price of recklessness. I could love you hard enough for it to leave marks on your bones, hard enough for you to walk away, but I would still be left with my hands. These palms have already memorized the feel of your touch, and I don’t want them to forget it.

This city cracks the egg
Over a bright blue pan,
And bursts the yolk to bleed
Golden across your skies.

This city can love you good and kind
If you just give it your lips,
And let it kiss you full and well—
But do not wince when the love goes down
A little too hard; a little too warm.

This city sleeps with one eye open,
And you should too—
Count the hearts it breaks,
The suns that might not rise.

This city is an ode
To insurmountable invisible walls
That tough it through the winter,
But shake at the tremble in your hands.

This city cuts across the land
Like a scar the world is ashamed of—
Ripping open and pouring out
All of the asphalt in your heart.

This city is unforgiving.
It lashes out in rainbow tones
And bruise-purpled hands.
Again and again and again.
 

There's a pier and a pile of fishing lures,
a boat and whiskey in the air.

There's too many hushed drips of names
and watered down questions.

There’s waves tugging at the sides of my gut
and there’s your lips sucking down the ocean.

Drip. Poke.
Are you still there?

I really shouldn’t have swallowed those nickels.
Salt water corrodes metal, indeed indeed.

You shut a door- a light shutters out.
Hushed drips. Pushed slips. Splash!

The water is cold this time of the year,
be a black seal and slip through the crevasses.

Quick, the shutters are closing faster.
Click.