Thursday, 8 June 2017

Angry devils and hungry angels.

Matt's car is still in the driveway. Matt is still here. He brought a decent supply of clothes with him. He's not in any hurry to go anywhere. Sam is dark and craving and he's beautiful because of it. Their divorce was finalized months and months ago and...and...I wish I to stop going around quoting Brokeback Mountain every three or four hours because it's annoying and yet it makes me laugh.

They can't quit each other.

Matt put Polish courage in my coffee cup without asking and I had to pour it out after a quarter of a cup because I'm pretty sure the others are putting things in my food. I don't know. I just know that sometimes when I get uptight about being touched they drug my food and ramp right up and I wake up in strange beds, in strange arms and it's a whole other sort of reunion and I don't know, it's not a bad thing but when even Bridget is burnt out on affection maybe it's too much. 

The collective isn't based around any more than that, sometimes. 

And I can't drink because I felt like a stowaway on stormy seas, tossed from one end of my balance to a void of gravity so profound I couldn't hold the cup any longer, having to set it down. 

No one looked alarmed. That speaks louder than any accusation or started-argument would have, and that's all I need to know. Everyone needs a break sometimes. My intensity burns like fire. Not nice fire but destructive, ravaging fire. 

We can contain that fire, Sam and Matt promised. Come spend a little time. 

I shook my head too hard and it broke off and rolled out the door, across the lawn and over the edge of the cliff. My eyes stung while my nose and ears filled with seawater. My body laughed as my brain drowned.

Okay, my mouth responded to Sam, gurgling my answer as water poured down my chin. But only for a little bit. I don't want to be a distraction if there's a chance you too are getting back together.