I don't normally post art or poetry here because yunno, it's tumblr. But some shit came up recently that made me think of something I wrote a while back for one of my best friends, so I figured I'd post it here in case anyone can relate.
To the boy who loved too much.
1 am, walking down the alley in all black, she's hunting her prey again. She looks at me and I swear she can smell the fear in my blood. Both of us, diplomatic as always, hate simmering under the surface of every interaction. She goes off, continuing her inquisition, I need to find him before she does.
"She's here, we have to go". As the words left my mouth the look that came across his face could only be described as sheer terror, like a child discovering the monster under the bed is real. We slink away, fast and quiet as we can, I look around as we run, stomach filled with knots and heart racing, for a moment I think we both knew what it was like to be stalked by a lion.
I remember when I had barely known you for half a breath. You took an anxious drag off your cigarette as you stared at the dead phone and said âsheâs gonna be so worriedâ. I watched you as you spoke, could see words forming in the back of your throat only to be choked out by trained tongue, worried never had so many meanings before. When the phone finally crackled to life and rang like a siren, your eyes said everything your mouth refused to. I listened as you held it up to your ear. Hisses and screams, like voices in a spirit box growing only louder as tears streamed down your face and my heart fell into my stomach. You broke down in the alley on the way home.
The next time I heard the thunder I knew a storm was coming. Small remarks turning into razor blades rationality falling on deaf ears. Fresh wounds splitting open with every flash of lightning, venom dripping out of accusatory jaws, the hell in her eyes, running, hiding. You, sobbing, holding on to me for dear life, my body a boui, my words a life jacket the only thing keeping you from drowning. But god, I could feel you drowning. In that moment I could feel your lungs fill with water, desperately trying to get air as chest tightened and every last bone in your body screamed for relief. That night the water forced you down again.
Now every day it rained is a scar on my memory.
1 A subtle accusation, no one says a word, an argument had been threatening to boil over all day, everyone tries to ignore it, tension never had a wider smile.
2 We take 6 shots in a back alley, the whisky stinging our throats as we paint shitty graffiti on the walls. He chokes down one last sip and the ever familiar words leave his lips âdonât tell her about this ok?â, we have a whole vocabulary for this now.
3 âWell maybe if you actually listened to me instead of just getting upset for no reason we wouldnât argue all the timeâ she snaps. He pauses, staring down at the floor, then takes a drink.
4 I watched his bright blue eyes turn gray like ash as he ashed his cigarette and looked at me with a hollow smile âPlease, letâs stay out just a little longer, Iâm so scared to go homeâ.
5 He runs out the front door frenzied and terrified, she had pushed him into an episode for what I guessed wasnât the first time, as she breaks the threshold of the door he whips around and screams âdonât come any closer Iâm fucking suicidal!â Iâm too scared to move, to think.
6 She shushes him as he cries, his fear still cast on the walls like a nuclear shadow.
7...The night air of spring surrounded me as we waited for him to get back from the shell, nothing had gone as planned that night and everyone knew it, she looked at me and spoke. âI do all this to protect him you know? When he gets upset he doesnât know how to take care of himselfâ. There was no emotion in her voice.
And I wonder if you know itâs not your fault, that vampires can only come in when invited, and that the devilâs greatest trick was convincing man she doesnât exist. Hide your tears and your breath boy, look for the warning signs. Crocodile tears from Betty Davis eyes watching your back at all times tread lightly. Walk carefully on eggshell ballroom floor as the music starts to play again. Itâs a dance, a broken record love song yet again sounding the war drums as voices raise tears fall and empty bottles pile up on the shelf.
The venus flytrap is a small carnivorous plant from the southeastern wetlands of north america, it secretes a nectar used to attract prey into its jaw like leaves. Once the prey has fallen for the bait the jaws slam shut. Leaving the prey to be slowly digested, unable to escape from itâs fate.
Ever since the first drop hit the ground, the flood waters have yet to stop rising. But what is there to be done? What are you supposed to do when the monster isnât under the bed but in it next to you? When all you can do is sit and wait for the next time your ribcage is cut open by the snake's silver tongue, how can anyone expect you to outrun the beast in the dark when you can only see by the flicker of gaslight? I remember a friend once told me, curses are just the words someone gets stuck in your head.
6 am, he storms out of the bedroom, head throbbing, heart racing, no thoughts only fear. He had only been home for an hour, it always ended this way. He rushes to the front door and tugs at the knob, but is pulled back and shoved away. She grabs him as he tries to pull her off. She wraps her first around his jaw like a vice, twisting his neck until it can barely take any more force and screams âlisten to me!â... And what other choice does he have?
