Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Tuesday, September 23, 2008

i'm not a stalker, i swear

I told you I was finished for a while.
I told you that I couldn’t
do it any more
and I needed a break.

The empty,
the nothing-

It was staring me in the eye,
whispering words in white noise
beneath the blank sheets.
I thought I could quit.
I thought I could quit you,
and your manner of teasing,
keeping your fingers light on
my skin just so;
I’d reach out to grab for you,
to pull you in,
but you stepped away,
made space between us,

blank, empty, nothing space.

I lived in a blank white box
for weeks.
I couldn’t see anyone,
I couldn’t hear anything.
I felt nothing but the nothing
that you wrapped around me
like a blanket of

flattened wave-lengths.

I told you that I was reconsidering everything
about you,
all the plans I made for my life-
you’re the center of everything.
I told everyone
about us,
that we were breaking up or taking some time
and I was moving on,
to surround myself with other people and subjects.

But here I am,
crawling back into your sheets.
I can’t read your reception.
Warm, cold, indifferent-
even though I know what all of those
feel like,
I can’t decide.
Will you tell me?
Do I need to ask someone else?
I have my books right here on the table.
I promise I can handle it,
but if you’ve started to hate me
even more than before,
I suggest you call your lawyer
and request a restraining order
because I can’t stop thinking about you,
and I need you.

I don’t need you to share my life,
I need you to share life,
I need you to recycle
the thoughts
in my head
because it’s good for the environment,
so that I don’t leak toxic waste in other
people’s space.
I need you to recreate
all the art in images I’ve seen
and conversations I’ve eavesdropped,
because humans have blind moments,
and deaf moments,
and we miss things we need;
think of it as a public service,
please?

I’ll be good to you, I promise,
if you let me do these things
with you,
and make them into books,
and collages,
and articles,
and spoken minutes
in front of those audiences who used
to have a crush on you.

I told you a lot of things,
a lot of made up stories and lot
of confusing lies,
but I haven’t told you the truth,
but here it is,
spelled out for you
with naked letters and messy
punctuation

///
and I told the college that we’re
moving in together next year.
I know, dorm rooms are close proximity,
but you’re just going to have to deal with it.
Trust me, it’s no picnic for me, either.
You’re kind of bossy, and
this isn’t the time to insult you
but I’m just trying to be honest,
y’know?

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