PUNCH DRUNK LOVE
January 29th 2007 16:09
I like brushing my cheeks with yours. I like kissing your knees. I like drawing you with bits of cloud and mud. I like teasing you. I wonder if I’d still get the same responses from you if I was thirty kilograms heavier, or if the grease on my face was greasier than it normally would be. It’s a tricky burden, trying to write down what I’m feeling because everything is so damn temporary, they come in and out of the house, uninvited as usual. Black piano keys and a jolt now and then. If only that one perfect date or that feeling or that smile after our hands touch would stay as a template, an unmovable control that just keeps us both happy for eternity. I don’t like the mistakes we make. What have we done to make our partners stay with us? Have we lied, have we made jealous, have we hit, have we killed? I heard of a husband who killed his wife, believing that if he can’t have her, no one else should. An old girlfriend of mine pretended to be was pregnant so that I would stay. I used to want to deliberately fight, because if we didn’t fight, we wouldn’t speak at all, and she would walk away. Why do hurtful things scar, and why is contentment only temporary?
I made you so angry that you clenched your fists and everything - the walls, the roof, the windows, the sky, the shitting pigeons outside - was being held still, on pause; you were using every single inch not to punch the wall, every ounce of strength not to cry. I drove you home and you slammed the door. Emotions, even when I try to numb them, are selfish and overwhelming things. I can’t pick them up. I can’t throw them away. There are times when I know I deserve it. I’m afraid of things and I cover this up by being brave. I cover up my lies by lying more. I make affection a sexual thing. I hurt to run away. I cry because no one’s watching. I fight because that’s my language. How can love be patient? How can love not take count of mistakes? How can love not be jealous? How can love not be conceited, when it’s there, we say these three words, use them, roll them, sell them, smoke them, share them, fuck them, fuck IT, this word, this label, love, it’s everywhere, and what is it, a mixture of infatuation, of envy, of lust, of naked, of drugs, of purple violence, of art, of you, of our hands, of us thinking about things? What is it that draws me and pisses me off and draws me back? What is it? Is it maroon is it indigo, a car that’s going slow, a traffic light melting, a sun in the distance, a guy plucking his arsehole hairs, a broken child, a cherry popping, food for the poor, education, a successful widow, an unselfish thought? You said Punch drunk love is pointless. My head was down and I was yelling and I said It can't be. You said Let's end this. I said This can't be it. It was raining hard. You said that I was a fucking mistake. I yelled This can't be it. You pushed me. You said that you're leaving for good, and it's better this way, that we hate each other. I pulled you back. You hit my chest and told me to fuck off. I said No. You cried and I let go but you didn't let go. You said Don't go.
Driving with our aviators on. The phone. Sandy blankets. Music and volume. Lips. I can live without you, but I can’t. Smiles by a bed, sun on our feet, perfect said, your heart I’ll keep. I can't stop bumping into things. I can't help but bring you up. I can't help but draw you on walls, on cars, on fingers, on handsome backs.
Song on the radio: That I Would Be Good, by Alanis Morissette
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Comment by Sisi
Comment by KylieW
Celebrity Obsession
You can't help who you love. Even if that person isn't necessarily good for you!
Great work
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
Love makes pain more desirable, in a way
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
Glad to hear from you again. It's a complete opposite to logic, isn't it?
Comment by Lilla
From The Home Front
Enviro Warrior
Dream Herald
Esoteric Bookshop
Love is a drug,
Love is torture,
Love is many things,
... but simple it is not.
*lol*
I think the God has a very warped sense of humour. ..
As Always, I loved your words and your style, your grace and reflections ... they always offer me ... inspiration.
Be well.