athea

Tonight I spent 15 minutes sitting my bathtub clutching the phone. Not knowing who the call. My mother, brother, therapist, crisis center, God. Or you, my darling little bird. Even if I don't love you the way I used to, the way I should. The one you love and the one who loves you will never be the same person. Our hearts got the time to meet all mixed up.

My words slurred, eyes unfocused. The little shadow-things creeping up on me with sharp little teeth. Like they used to with my old ghost. The one who held my wrists and followed me everywhere. Now I've got a new ghost, and his hands are big enough to close over my fists and he sings so beautifully it cuts into me every time. But he can't fight the dark and I don't know why. Just as helpless as I am.

I know how lucky I am to always have something to smile about. I know how lucky I am that half my tears lately are out of this shining kind of happiness. The reasoning behind all this shortcircuiting and destructive madness is beyond me. I want blood tests, scans, IVs, anything to figure what is wrong. I don't even want to do anything about it (that is every word Bukowski and Salinger wrote rising to the surface). I just want to know. If maybe my blueprints were all wrong and I've been put together like some Frankenstein monster.

Lately it seems like my entire body is experiencing phantom limb.

It's amazing every time you save me from another day inside my head. I wish I could take every word and every note and wrap myself inside of it. Sick of sleeping with my head beside the speaker. I want to live inside of this.

Good night moon good night room good night you etc etc