#lwta

[the-lean-buddha]

lwta chapter three

happy September 1st everyone

[unanochesincafee]

"Buenas" porque "tarde" va a ser cuando quieras andar conmigo y yo ya no.

[the-lean-buddha]

chapter two of Long Walk to Arkham is here! too many characters! puns! fancy ass chronology! a davidson fight scene in a greenhouse!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32324161/chapters/82784872

[bargainandfight]

commute

it was silly to cry on the drive home yesterday. all the songs sounded like you, and everything just felt like the deadest end.

what is love and how can i feel it? does it happen, or is it found, or was it in us all along?

does it not exist?

i've been so long without it, maybe immune, maybe imaginary, but the need to know is monumental, goliath.

why did all the songs sound like you? if it isn't love, all warm and fuzzy and harboring misery, then what? when can i have it since you constantly take it away?

[bargainandfight]

world war I, cont.

i'm on a plane, faced in your direction. turbulent, like love, that lurch of the stomach. nothing to spit in, phoenix airlines.

i've faced this way before, didn't quite reach you. always landing on the wrong island, not north enough, 9 hours too short.

still, you change your locks, your numbers, your excuses. witness protection from my devotion for you.

devoted to what? your crooked gaze? receding hairline? your foreskin, your apprehension?

you didn't say much the last time, and that's how i knew you'd flee again. no need to worry about your performance if you're a constant no-show. unreliable little flake. nerdy, shower-needing heartthrob.

at least have the decency to tell me "no," to call me a stalker, an idiot, boring! let me be the villain, for once. i want off the high horse, as it, again, for the millionth time, gallops into the no mans land of your regard.

a place that doesn't even exist. another island, another plane.

[bargainandfight]

work

nothing to live for and no one to die for. existence, and what to do with it.

more adherence to the bed than to the routine.

but he used to be it; to impress him, to appease him, the goal at the end of the pitch. he spoke in times between the monotony, the HR complaints, quarantine.

boring, but better than me.

what is the context of what we do, anyway? war is so complex, and yet it's backed, and run by cavemen, myself included.

when you left, so did my will to try.

just as boring as you, i wanted to be better.

no perks.

no zest.

just wishing for cancer, a hundred different colored pencils, and your whereabouts.

send my asshes to you so you can ignore me there too.

[bargainandfight]

a clean knife

if i could i would slit the throats of men who knew me too well.

i wish you knew me well enough!!

cowardly little lime, white as parchment, yellow as night. not having you is my greatest accomplishment, and deepest regret.

murder preoccupies my mind, the same way your shadow casts upon the places you've never been.

how often i imagined you, shotgun, against the red rock of Zion, scantily clad in the Mexican Gulf, scandalously full of Bratwurst, hunched, and above me, in Bangkok, Rio, Granada or where else.

you've stained my future with your imagined attendance. a crime scene of premeditated hope.

i wanted to be there, there, and there with you!

now, venues ruined, on the run, on my own.

[bargainandfight]

indifference

you, muse of my discontent. i've convinced myself i will not miss you nearly as much as i thought. how quaint to think this was love, internationally renowned, your receding hairline emulating all the borders of your vagrancy.

i can never be home to you. i cannot run away from what does not chase me.

call me a brick wall, a swamp leech, a stay in the tit;

the fly in your soup, an itch on your back, and a girl who loves you more than you deserved.

glad i never said it, because my recovery proves that it was never there.

but being in love with you is just the same as not being in love with you; an existence of you not being there.