My memorandum of scattered dreams: We stood in front of the freshly painted wall, under a bridge behind a chain link fence. SEIR stretched across the landscape of cement before us. “Heartbreaker” cut through the organic curvature of the letters, as if it were etched deep within the flesh of my ribs with a serrated blade spited with salt. His arms wrapped around my body pulling me close as he rested his chin upon my shoulder, kissing my cheek. Feeling weightless in my head was counterbalanced by the the heaviness in my chest that made me short of breath. He began to explain to me how it was some round-about fucked-up term of endearment, and that he truly did love me. I remember colors, and feeling loved, bits and piece of our fragmented past flashed around amicably in my head. I woke up warm and content, then felt the slow chill of reality settle in upon the realisation that it was once again just a dream.

What I should have done was go to bed hours ago but here I am up with my thoughts, invading my personal space. What I should have done was come straight home, but sometimes I’m happy to have felt this way; the sudden shock of life. Some days I’m happy to have been at this mercy of my emotions. Sometimes I feel that it’s all a part of progress… and I’ll probably erase this in the morning. Delerious with sleep and Tuesdays call to arms…

it’s a sad war when the only one you’re fighting is yourself. World viewed sideways. I lay down, no contest, it’s an uphill battle and I’ve relenquished my hold. Finding it futile to attempt to gain purchase on a heart that’s been worn smooth by years of abuse. One more pill, one more pull off the bottle, and we all end up down, down, down in the same black hole. Together as one, but always alone. Anxiety, complacency, twisting knives and no feelings. Apathy, monotony, My wrists wring rotten, this vile grip, and we jump off the deep end.

I think I might have said to much, but I leveraged the conversation with a guilty admission from the other end of the line. I hold the cards, I have written the lay of the land, at least for now. But these saline stained cheeks can’t help but hide an apprehension that comes with entertaining the idea of of your volatility. An understanding of the subtle and profound impact you have on the homeland of my heart and psyche… this is a fragile game we play, I see your pawns still stay the course. Don’t faulter in guard, or rather, please do, and maybe I’ll get a chance to see your soul naked in front of all that you must constantly prove you are. 85, just one number shy of your own demise, but I held on for you even when you were losing grip, I traced the small of your back and kissed your neck when the thoughts weighed you down too much to lift your head. Thanks be to me as a bullet to the brain; a viper repays kindness with a vicious goodbye kiss filled with venom, numbs the skin until reality sets in. Awakening alone, bleeding on the ground. I think I might have said too much but I doubt anyone will recognize my words in the morning. I have one hand on the scale and one hand holding a bleeding heart. Whispers, sun rising… I feel them too.

I travel across the earth to leave this all behind
Fresh faces crowd my view but old memories latch tight.
Relentless like a wolf hot on the trail of blood, it seems to find me.
Before we were anything, you were still a piece of everything.
A pathetic excuse for a whisper in my ear, and the piano rolls on into the night.
Leaving a trail of empty memories and weightless promises in its wake.
Pyramids get you closer to god, but never any closer to you.

Dragging myself over your coals for no apparent reason at all..

85 days ago I still thought that you loved me. So says the notes in my phone. What a fool I was to think you could give enough of yourself away to add up to something of consequence. And now I am sitting in an Irish pub in Luxor, Egypt with you perpetually pacing my mind. I saw the pyramids of Giza, and remembered how you told me you wanted your photo there. I am seeing the world the way you wanted to come along, and we’re not speaking now but I’ll still bring you back some alabaster just to show you that I care even though you’re very upset with me over something I didn’t do…

I wonder if you think of me too. You keep me up at night. I see the sun set west over the Nile river towards Baltimore and I won’t let you know this ever, but I wish it would carry me to your doorstep. Pathetic, and without any idea of what I’ll say when you see me.

I should probably figure that out… I’m slightly tipsy at this point. But I’ll keep on drinking. Because the train right back to Cairo is cold and unpleasant; if I don’t sleep I’ll eventually think of you. So I’m going to have another beer. Egyptian Stella

They often say to not let your thoughts run away with you. But the curse of an active mind is such that resistance is often short lived when it comes to the demons in my head. Memories creep from under the bed and skeletons make their way from the closet to speak to me softly as I sleep only to wake and spit out your name. The screen brings relief from a mind tired of aimless yet purposeful wandering. A sullen expression that might seem so hard to read but I see through you so easily.

You were my beautiful disaster and now I have become one too.