delirious: (whorl)
sometimes in these moments I wonder how fucked up, or how weird I am to some people. people who humour me and my ramblings, people who've taken care of me and seen me at my lowest and most troublesome moments.

other times I'm just like, they are the weird ones.

sometimes I think that if I were happier, if I hated myself less, if I knew what I was doing, if, if, if --

then maybe the words will come.
delirious: (look up)

part b of section three:

"How did you even get up there," you ask. There are boxes on top of the kitchen cupboards, and if they hadn't been there you would never have noticed the space between the wood and the walls. The last time you were here the floor was still covered in a layer of construction dust, but now the room smells vaguely like cardboard.

Amber shrugs her shoulders and you notice the way her hair falls in her face when she looks the other way, over her shoulder at the closet as if it holds the answer to your question.

"Well, you could just hop on the counter. Or you could put your foot over there, on the windowsill then propel yourself over the sink. Don't worry, you're too big to fall in the sink."

You suppose that is good enough and turn towards the window to examine the possible handholds you would have if you carry out what she has described. Doesn't seem like there are many; the wood finish is smooth and the granite counter gleams. At least with rock climbing you have colourful putty like things that definitely do not feel like putty in your hands to hold on to. When you look back at her, she has dragged out some of the thickest and biggest books from the closet, setting the last one, Woe is I, on top. A grammar book.

She then rushes to explain the hardcover Anatomy of the Human Body, Interpretation of Dreams, Principles of Biophysical Chemistry, The Last Emperors of Rome.

"I use these."

"Books," you state, unimpressed. The glossed covers look suspiciously slippery, and the science book has goldfish on its cover.

"Textbooks," she corrects. "Can't say they weren't ever useful now, can you?"
delirious: (scotch)

you don't realize how bright the strobe lights had been because everything else had been too dark, but you remember that whatever that you had seen of the night scene as you drove back had been more stunningly beautiful than usual, but you had attributed that to how happy you were. these things you knew beforehand, read the pixels on page after page of knowledge passed on by others.
delirious: (courage)
tease with breath across my bare shoulders

and feel warm under my hands

finally, they stir the desperate want from the concaves of my heart
delirious: (delirium)
I remember you at the oddest moments.

Happy, peaceful times when you were interesting and I was curious, when you were special and so was I.

No longer so.


Sep. 11th, 2009 05:24 pm
delirious: (delirium)
It's an unfamiliar yet strangely familiar sound, of knowing and not really know because you know you haven't been here long enough to know her secrets - but where have you been long enough to know? Words trip your tongue with an uneasy tilt to the vowels, you try but you don't really because you don't want to care, you were here three years and it has only been three months away (to go home) and you're back (is this your new home?) for barely three days and you are remembering what you have always known even though you never realized you had started to forget. When you were back people told you they found your newly acquired American accent annoying but the thing is people have been telling you that since you were eight so you just smile at them and care a little less. Here, right now, in this country, in this time zone, people look different look at you differently and you wonder if it is a good thing a better thing but you know better than to make comparisons because the grass is always greener on the other side (what other side the one that you are on, but what if you are on both sides?) and it just makes for unhappiness and resentful feelings that you know better than to commit to memory. But when you hear the accent (that accent) streak the air as a group of any-other asians leave the cafe you are reminded acutely of home, and that you really don't know where it is.


Jul. 22nd, 2009 12:52 am
delirious: (the present tense)
I am so many different persons,
but I am also just me.


The coffee cup that has cooled down
a little is like a merry-go-round
It mimics our inertia

Let's kiss one more time, and
expose your secret
Beyond your tongue and mine,
there's the truth...

kiss twice, kiss me deadly,

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