A COMMUNAL EXPERIMENT IN SELF CURATION

a Soul Project

archival : its been awhile :

No update from me for months so it seems!
And though so much has happened
nothing has really changed.
Cody, once so innocent in my eyes,
now so polluted and ugly.
Once again, here I am feeling tired and used.
My energy store is running low,
but when has it ever been truly high.
Maybe a year ago,
when I was with you, Chris.
Yes, then. I remember how
Full of life I used to be.

At this coming Thursday's tennis match,
Closer than I've come to you in months.
I'll be so near to your house I could smell it.
So distinct, how I miss your smell.
It crossed my path today
and I was reminded instantly
of my past life,
my former self.
Yesterday evening
Richard's cologne, not yours,
sat on the counter and screamed your name at me.
I was tempted to wear it.
But then I'd only go to sleep smelling you,
smelling how you always did
even when you'd sweat,
and I'd risk myself drifting into dreams of you.
I dreamt them, regardless.
That flaming bitch was in my dream too.
She had no right to be, but there she was.
And in my dream she was in my home.
In my home, that dopey blonde bitch!
She had no right. I hurt her,
I slapped, punched and kicked her,
but no matter what she wouldn't die.
I wanted her gone.
I wanted her gone so desperately.

I miss the pieces of you
scattered in the wake of our separation.
I'll say it all a million times.
It was the only true intimacy I'd ever known,
and it was ours.
I miss your smell, Chris.
I miss the way you held me.
I miss just damn touching you.
I miss the look of you
and the way you walk.
I miss the way you walk, and stand.
And above all else,
regardless of all this stupid missing,
I pray to god I dont see you on Thursday.