It feels like so much culminates here, with you. The
gramophone finally stopped working, the toy train finally
begun to look like a simple piece of wood. All the
denial I carried with me to hush my death wish fell into the
river when you slipped... And I cried into the water instead
of jumping, sending a part of me with it, holding on to the
bridge we've walked for two and a half years.
And when you took my hand again, you were naked, and
frightening.
The world is spinning out of control, and we're rounding to
a halt, one second at a time.
I'm rounding to a halt, one second at a time. Yes,
absolutely, I've given up. Absolutely. It was not only up to me.
I cannot soar, I cannot walk but crawl; my heart beats
heavy, low, and I fear that at any moment there will no
longer be anything to pick up, or apart.
I cry out to you for comfort in this, I cry out to you who
has bedded me in intimacy and submission, bedded me in
nothing but ideals.
Why did I come, why am I here? Why did we need to bring to
climax what we only hoped would not kill us?
A test, a need, a fear, you and I, my love, you and I, so
broken, so broken in our isolation, so vulnerable in our
dissociation.
Oh how we have constructed a world to justify us, a world to
control and push away the rawness of life, and interactions.
We are nothing, nothing more than a theory, everyday refuted
and everyday tightened.
Complacent, yes, my love, complacent. A moment to feel
myself alive yet, a moment to think without your presence...
Without the neglect.
How hard I've dreamt of you, with you; how far I've reached
for you, for I, and so rarely for us.

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