leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- a reintroduction Ummm...hi. Lots of wordless days lately. Unless you count humming, ears covered, curled in a triangle on the floor, which I don't. Been dancing way too close to the flames then wondering at the ashes around my ankles. Time to sell my time again. The realization of which brought a bloody tantrum. Lovely crisscrossed arms and hallucinations. A trip to Dokken's and a drive into the mountains with stars so low they covered us like body glitter. And Dokk edgy, and eyeing me, and threatening to tackle if I walked too near the road. Then at the bank of the mountain he said he didn't think I could fly, but I could've, only it was too cold to try. Partly because I didn't wear my jacket because it hurt my arms. He drove my car on the way back to his house, because when I drove the mountain moved. Back at his house. Mmmm...his arms, holding me like a baby, and my cheek against his chest and his smell (dear God, I love his smell), and his fingers brushing my hair off my face, and kisses on the top of my head and my temples and my cheeks. And my heart firmly in his teeth. And I would die like that if you'd let me. And then a little blond boy appeared on the fence out the window. About three years old, chubby cheeks, navy-blue hoodie sweatshirt. So I looked the other direction. And when I buried my face against his chest, Dokken understood and asked what I had seen. And how do you explain losing your mind? And when you do, how do you thank someone for saying they won't let anything happen to you? Even if it's a lie. And he said he had to sleep and I had to go. And he asked if I remembered where I was and how to find home. And I nodded, but I didn't tell him that I couldn't remember how to breathe. And most of the drive home the little blond boy from the fence was sitting in the passenger seat. And I wanted to scream, but I knew if I started I wouldn't stop. And as I drove I would reach these places where I could see that the road ended (just dropped off like a Wile E. Coyote cartoon) and it took everything in me to keep driving rather than come to a complete stop in the middle of the freeway. But the little boy didn't seem scared, which made me brave, so I drove over them. And then he was gone. And the street began to stay under me where it belonged. And I made it home, and waited, and watched the sun come up. And I wonder what the little boy wanted. And I wonder if he was mine or someone else's. But I only wonder in little flashes so I won't scream. And this is typed here now. And you can make of it whatever you like, becuase I certainly never know what to make of any of it. Which isn't all the time, but is often enough to scare me. 3:27 p.m. - February 24, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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