The Sky is Falling.

I saw gulls circling and screaming just a few moments ago as I walked to the friendly franchised service station and store a block away to buy rocket fuel and stinking cat food.

The wind rushed by me, and the sky hangs heavy and lower. It looks bloated, gravid with snow.

Snow used to make me feel so dirty. The pristine whiteness of it against the grey specter of my soul did nothing but stir discord in my breast; my stomach churning with hollow insecurity.

Now everything in me, everything I am stretches out for it.

It gets colder...arms and shoulders...like the song says. Make it hot. Take me over and over and over.

The sounds grind in

Like peeling back the skin of an old blister, the sounds have turned hard.

It's only when I'm singing or having sex that it stops. When I hit that perfect note, everything turns white and sparkling, like being on the inside of a snow globe.

I need to move from this place, this palace of co-dependency. Make my own walls, shape my own pattern so that when I hear/see everything won't be tinged with this brownish red old blood color, this offensive lathe to my mind.

Melting intention..

Her smile drips down her face, meaningless and melting. I see the subterfuge behind it, her mouth stretched so tight, her hands tightening.

Her very being is repulsed by me.

And I can only find it interesting. Is is my mind? My eye/brain constantly distracting me? What a cold bland space the rest must live in. Even as I type the clicking of my ridiculously zebra striped acrylic nails makes tiny bluish dust motes float out, all soft and dis-solvable.

Maybe it is the eschewment of tradition that plagues her, turns her stomach and narrows her eyes. I can only wonder. And not really bring myself to care anymore.

Soon I can be alone. In my own space. It will be crystalline and acoustic, things arranged to make pleasing sounds. Portraits and silly keepsakes. Tiny boxes, hidden and cherished and filled with secret strange things.

This is what I hold onto in my heart, this promised land of solitude and silence.

But there is never truly silence.

I'll find a crown and somewhere to lay my head...

Clicking, sorting, narrowing down things. What I *don't* want.

How I would have laughed at myself 15 years ago. I realized how free I am...when I got the news. The news of marrow and blood. The tidings of a hope of a real life.

It was like someone lifted an anvil off of my shoulders that I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.

But where to build? Do I find a new city to explore, tapping cracks into sidewalks and creeping through neighborhoods? No.

But I will fly away. Make myself a new place all my own. Nooks and crannies, filled with items just for me.

Leaking into my thoughts...

I still remember the brown white creases in your hands. How I would turn them over in mine, marveling at the difference in our skin tones but reveling in how well we fit into each other. Hands, lips, your brilliant teeth with that fucking gold front flashing out from your dark face. Your eyes were like amber, melting and kind.

All hard and street outside, your exoskeleton. How soft you were, your giant hands resting gently on my shoulders as you whispered how much you loved me on that night when the thunder was cracking and we had mattresses over the windows. Your chin was gently on my head.

How I loved you. Sometimes when I'm so terribly lonely I think I'll break I whisper your name. The levies broke. They washed you away. Away from me, into the warm sea. I hope you weren't afraid.

I hope you know I felt it, like a bone breaking in my side when you went. When I called your mother's house, your phone, your sister's cousin's cell phone and just got an all circuits are busy message. I felt you slip away.

I'll go back someday my love. Place my hand on the stone that I know you don't rest under. I miss your strength, your piss. You always stood so tall. Me and my tattoos and studs and hair; you and your gold chains and cornrows. How odd we must have looked. Your jaw was locked so tight as you said my name aloud in the room, me gripping your arm so hard it had to hurt. My heart was pounding from the look of dismay on your Mother's face.

But I had to go back. That city was slowly killing me, sucking me dry with liquor and powders and the soft luxuries you covered me with.

How hard I cried when you couldn't come with me. And one month later, the levies broke.