Sunday, March 25, 2007

this story begins on a roof, with two people, and ends with death (of a sort). it is often the way.

there was the longest silence, the kind of silence where the slightest movement might sound like something beautiful shattering. m was lying on his back, his feet dangling off the edge of the water tank, swaying gently back and forth, like laundry in the cool, summer breeze. he was staring at the stars, as s stood over him, bathed in the orange neon glow of that pulsating city. she took a long drag from her cigarette, and let it fall to the ground, three storeys below, it's still glowing tip arching end over end before it hit the cold, hard concrete. they told each other that they came here to think, but it was only one lie.

'it's 4.30am, on a tuesday. how do we end up here, again and again?' he asked her.
'we've got nowhere else to go,' she said, and sat down next to him, roughly. she dusted her hands over the edge.
'this is no way to live,' he whispered, still staring at infinity, 'you know that.'
'and what would you propose we do, then?' she said, her words edged electric.
'that,' he sighed,'i do not know.'
she leaned backward, so that her palms were spread open on the floor behind her back and her arms were taking her weight. her eyes searched for the edge of the sky, for a pocket of deep darkness.
'perhaps we're only searching for oblivion,' he said, suddenly.
'how do you mean?' she asked, startled at how close his words were to her eyes.
'you realize that we're pushing ourselves further away, each night?'
'you do. we're constantly pushing - because we don't care about anything. you and i, we're not content until we break something,' he continued. 'i wonder which night it will be that i find this roof empty, again. i doubt i'll be surprised, but who knows? we're capable of anything.'
she turned her head, slowly, the streetlights setting her long, brown hair aflame.
'i don't believe that. i don't want to break you,' she said, her voice softening.
'no, i don't think you do. but you will. or i you,'he said,'i don't think you and i know how to love any other way.'
'is honesty that brutal?'
'we're on fire.'
she nodded, and took his hand in hers, gently rubbing between his fingers. he looked away from the sky, then, and watched s, hair aflame and eyes laced with tears. and they held each other, gently rocking in the breeze, for a time almost as dark as the sky.

'i won't leave,' he whispered in her ear, his voice suddenly stronger than the damp circle that had appeared on her shoulder would suggest.
'it'll kill you,'she sobbed.
'i won't go.'
'then i will,' she said, quietly. and she moved her hands from his back, turned her head and moved back.

and he let her go, until she was standing on the edge of that water tank, ready to let herself down. he brushed the hair from his eyes and looked at two brown irises, quivering, on a body that was glowing slightly at the edges, filled in with darkness.
'because this is going to kill you.'
he didn't move. 'you're lying.'
'i-,' her resolve faltered. 'i'm sorry. i-,' she paused,'i don't know what to do.'
'what do you want to do?'
'i want this to stop.'
he smiled. 'what? just when we're getting to the fun bit, where we end up hating each other?'
'don't be flippant,'she said, but she smiled in spite of herself. 'what do we do?'
he leaned back, again, and contemplated the dark, dark sky.
'we live,' he said.
she sat down again, on that edge, and stared at the streets below, that intricate maze of houses, dreams and neon that made her city at night.
'there's a city down there, you know?'
'i know. and yet you and I, lovers, trace the same circles, night after night.'
'then maybe we really do have nothing to lose.' she took his hand, squeezed, and pulled him up. they stood there, regarding that city asleep, hand in hand, breathing in the texture of its dreams, watching its electric claws sparkling in the distance, and wondering if they should step down from that tiny water tank into a big, big world.


sometimes, late at night, when there's no-one for miles, i can still make out the dim outline of a shadow touching a shadow's hand.

Friday, March 02, 2007

i sense the scent of your skin,
(insideout), in between syllables
and concrete.
your dark, sweet taste lives in the space
between my teeth,
tongues probing, searching
blindly, constantly.
(i hunt for your soul
in the spaces)

your eyes met mine,
somewhere, long ago,
and we chased each other, furiously,
in endless circles, until your nails were white-hot,
and my skin smoldered, silently.
i wonder,
if, perhaps, life is not simply one
moment of intensity,
rather than a series of images,
if, perhaps, we are not
(i write to you
in my sleep)

i do not know what it is about you,
that sinks beneath this flesh, bone and soul,
tattooing itself, powerfully, underneath my skin,
only that i, no poet, can not live
but with the scent of your skin
on the tip of my tongue,