June 15, 2010 § Leave a comment
my love, my ivory,
my mother told me once that if you were reckless with your heart, other people would treat you just as worse.
the needle on the record skips though the imperfections, and so does my finger that grazes your skin. i can see through your skin, ivory, as your bones skim through an endless red. the record plays. you and i make each other a sinful playground; a carnival of temptations with secrets hidden in the crevices of our electric bodies.
the music dictates the steps to our dynamite waltz. how i love to enter your body, how i love you enter my body.
my dearest ivory, you have hosted my being so fruitfully. your mouth resembles the barrel of a gun. i blow kisses as you blow me bullets. each one more lethal than the last, you take me away effortlessly.
the voltage has fluctuated, and the lights have turned down low. i’m watching you sleep. the best part of the day is when you wake up; you are born again. i think: who would refuse to step inside your universe?
every town has secret places, like a corner in a coffee shop, or an emotional knapsack. this room, this harbor of desire, is a secret place. my camera, this chamber of images and memories, is a secret place. your heart, a blooming outlaw, is a secret place.
in a society where good things happen, my life is supposed to revolve around a world named crimson. but his is a world that is indecisive and immature; that world is a futile attempt to a utopia. a world that operates on karma, but with no sense of proportion. crimson has no space for secret places. crimson brings knives to a gunfight. i cannot stand to be a part of that world. the society where good things happen. the society where you and i cannot be involved.
when i am with you, ivory, that world is out of focus. crimson is nothing but a word, and not a name. allow me to wake you up with this letter, as we watch that world collapse from this hotel room.
consider every picture a last goodbye to the cruel world. i befriend the oceans of chemicals that drown our memories into a framing halt. like the atlantic, it is chaotic to the unfamiliar. consider this a stop bath.
i am reckless with my heart, and i allow you, ivory, to enter my walls, wreak havoc from within, and pacify. our mothers would be proud.
love & squalor