Prose The Lord

She says, all I want to do is keep from hurting you. I say, all you gotta do is not hurt me. She says, I just want things to be simple, I say, yeah, that sounds simple. For so long we've been playing with the label makers, from "Just Friends" to "Future Baby Maker". Each new label, another line of glue, sticks to our hands, makes us wish things weren't so sticky, makes us wish we didn't have to get out the paint thinner every time the world around us changed.

One night, we get tired of scraping off the goo, the residue. Remnants of a poem, no longer a metaphor:

Hearts tied like shoestrings
Legs tied like pretzels
Hands wrapped, doubts snapped

I think that my words can paint pictures
but your lips bring poetry in motion - 01.14

The dove seems so majestic as it flies in through the window. The dove tears shit up as it tries to make its way back out. Not quite naked but skin against skin, we realize, we've been living a lie.

I'm the only one for her, except for when I'm not. Sometimes, she thinks I'm her personal Jesus, other times, her Romeo. No one really knows what's going on, and my words fall on deaf ears that hold eardrums pierced by my incessant pining, my pitiful whining.

I seek salvation in a bottle, it doesn't come. I seek salvation in my old Buddy, it doesn't come:



I seek identity in anonymity.

We do not forgive, we do not forget. We are legion. Expect us.

Yet this, is not my salvation. Am I mocking myself? I've attached my face and name to it, I've already fallen.

I search for serenity by standing in solidarity against oppression. Free Tibet!


But these Chinese are not the ones who steal away my sleep at night. My personal doubts won't be eroded by my global activism. My chronology got lost in the waterfall, let's rewind.

She needed time, and I needed space. So I dropped the bottle and went back to the rock:



When you can't conquer romance, conquer nature. Make rocks your bitch. Make the rocks beg for mercy as you kick and climb over their frozen bodies. Cut your hands, bleed on them. Bang your knee, swear at them. Get to the top, and proclaim in front of one good friend and a lot of birds, that you're the king of the world. Then remember, how ridiculous that all sounds.

Remember that the heart and mind carry the weight of your love and attachment whether you're at the top of the world or down in the gutters. I get up there, and I say, "I wish she was here, she needs to be here"

And a week later, she was. "Let's just be friends", take two. The remix. And she and I go back between a rock and a hard place and overcome it together. "What, you waiting for me to take a picture?". You already have, dear. Keep it in your heart if you will.

And a day later, there's a four hour visit involving some elephants I shed a handful tears over, and some Kung Fu we shared laughs over. Go Go Power Rangers! And for some reason, the "White Bro" is not something I can call my friends.

Her hands reach for mine, my lips reach for hers, and the former is okay but the latter won't do. It's all my fault, except for when it's not. We're everything and nothing, the good and the bad.

"You started it!", a boy like me cries. "You don't know when to stop!", a girl like her shouts back.
But what happen? Did someone really set us up the bomb?

Nah, we just threw the label maker off the rocks and let it shatter where it landed. There is a sensual beauty in the fact that even our most serious arguments have humor. Even our deepest doubts have some shining light in them.

I'm not the only one in her life, and she makes it clear. She's got a secret-agent lover man off in the mists, and I've said, the less I know the better. I've said, we can't be doing this. She's said, we won't be doing this.

But me, I'm a fucking comet. I'm a ball of fire and ice that'll shatter any inhibitions that fall before me. She thinks I'm some kind of Jesus, but I'm Shiva, The Destroyer, The God of Death.

I'm every spicy food she's ever eaten. I'm the setting sun, burning through the sky reminding her that she can't hang on to the light. She's that lover that never really existed, but is more real than anything just the same.

She says she's cold as ice, I say "Watch out, you're gonna melt".

And for those who read this, even if it's you, mystic 20....

Don't worry about me. I'm just having fun. :)