"Waking I feel
I follow mirrors that
Make sense to me
Make sense to me
Never let yourself out, I did
It ruined me
It ruined me"
Bag Lady, Manic Street Preachers.
The skin is obscure. It carves from within the mind, the thoughts combined, it whispers. Something changes and you watch from a far, trying to remember what was that you said that make all feelings change. You do not remember. However, listen, maybe this time somebody is watching, it may catch you by the throat, somebody now knows. Keep walking; keep walking you repeat in your head. It is too late.
I walk in a space so white, millions of germs by my side. It is interesting to think about what will come, count the numbers, the hair loss and the progress. You are wearing a black and white striped t-shirt, the eyes somewhere I cannot meet.
"Are you ashamed?" I have to ask. Was the smell of vomit in my mouth so disgusting?
Your eyebrows look darker tonight. The body as tired as a cheater's conscience. Why are you standing so far away? Autumn is here, you should be telling me what a tight asshole I have. Instead, you are distant as the future in my head.
"We should go and eat something"
"You don't eat," he says.
"I know. You should talk to me then"
"I have nothing to tell you. All this is wrong. I fucked everything up. What am I going to tell her?"
"Don't tell her. End of story"
"She deserves to know"
"No one deserves anything"
"I have to go"
"When are we going to talk?"
"I don't know. I need to think this throw"
"There's nothing to think throw. Kiss me and you will know!"
"I don't want to kiss you... anymore"
What can I say to that?
He leaves; I watch the space where he was standing. It looks so empty and complete at the same time.
Keep walking before everything starts to crumble. Therefore, you go. Away. You walk the dark streets. He killed your fear, you tell yourself. You just needed someone to do it for you. Now you are ready. You have met heartbreak. Then you laugh because this is just another lie. You are so strong nothing gets to you; you are as strong as death.
It makes me smile, the way my head works. I have lost any control so many years ago. Adolescence has changed me. I obey now, to this destructive machine, mind fucker self-hater. It is almost like Dadaism. I have to laugh because it is so complicated and no one understands how a very calm person can be so perverse as well. Such an ugly prison your skin becomes and you feel you touch humanity by its core.
Grab a stone and smash it against your skull. On the other hand, so I did.
The pain makes feelings real.