The Car.
I feel like I am still in it, but this time I cannot get out. I can still smell the fumes thick around me, wrapped around my head. I can still feel the cement that replaced my blood, that made me too heavy to move, that pulled my shoulders to my hips and my hips to my feet and my feet into the road where they cannot move, cannot go. I live a life I see in sights around me, and then I blink a shuteye that lasts a millisecond, a week, two months and I am back again, strapped to a seat. Maybe all of my sadnesses were an accident waiting to happen, maybe I was supposed to be moved.
No one knows the force with which I bear blows, how I bear every weight in my life on my broken back that was bending before I broke it. I am being pulled up from my sinking shoulders by my life, being grabbed to attention, but all I want to do is be left to melt away, sink into myself and into the ground like snow, muddying the earth in a temporary mark of wetness like breath on a mirror, there for a second to be seen in all my transparency and softness and blur, and then gone, like the mess of air that I am.
Dear stranger,
Thank you. I’ve lost so many people in my life that I couldn’t begin to start guessing which one of them you might be, but thank you; I’m doing much better lately.
‘By Your Hand’, by Los Campesinos
I’m not sure if it’s love anymore,
but I’ve been thinking of you fondly, for sure.
Remember what your heart is for?
By your hand
is the only end I foresee,
I have been dreaming
you’ve been dreaming about me.
