A Special Occasion

Theres a sparkle in your eye and a laugh in your smile.

I look around with my shifty eyes and my unsure movements, waiting, for a pause, an apology, a mistake, an utterence not meant to be. Waiting to leap forward in one jerky movement, fire in my mouth and large gaping voids instead of eyes. Waiting to stab at the part of you that is more mine than yours, to reach in with purposeful hands, ripping apart all the soaked up alive leathery parts of your insides, pulling at them while they're still attached to you, rip rip rip. Do you feel it ? your intestines slippery between my fingers, your bones crunching inside my closed white-knuckled fist, your mouth a thick pool of red with hard shiny white , wine-stained floating bits of bone that once functioned as your teeth. somewhere a dam breaks and a steady reservoir of red pours out from your inflamed nostrils, down over the shocked "o" of your lips and into the red sloshy thickness of the insides of your mouth. I carve out your heart and seperate the best pieces from the worst. I search till you are reduced to a wet-towel like lump of something indescript lying in a pool of your own rotting juice. I dont find it. Nothing of yours is more mine than yours. You defeat me.

Do you want a straightforward and clean ending? Do you want to go home happy? Do you want something hard, cold and defineable like hate? Sharp, steely, heavy, full of regrets and crumbling under the weightlessness of an acute but farce lack of guilt that so often accompanies denied blame. Love, love would be different with its multifaceted manifestations in jealousy, possession, unprecedented and uncontrollable desire followed by complete helplessness and frustration, with its infinite power to consume yet fill up, to drain yet provide life, to hurt more than your darkest, most deeply buried nightmares that were once memories, real representations of the horrors that was once your reality.

i'll give it to you.

take it.

In return you must leave me with that part of you that was more mine than yours, the one you told me about, the one ive been aching for, the one you've been saving up for a special occasion, the occasions here and now. Beyond it awaits that vile thing you call freedom, a dirty unwanted splotch of filth, a burden you wish to carry.
My freedom lies in the endless possibilities, essential to our dream-making, just like the stars that fill up the sky.