Hurt Me Daddy, for I Have Blogged

There are pictures on the walls. There are things peeled off from doors, that used to be there when I was there. The peering, prying effect of neighbors who really only keep to themselves. The walls, yellowed like when I was still here. The same street noises, quiet and suburban. I daydream of when the light fell a certain way and all I had to worry about was getting a ride to the mall. I hear voices downstairs. They are people who didn't used to live here. This house is now filled with people who didn't used to live here. Appliances that were not here before. So I left. I don't even recognize the people who have lived here my whole life. Faces recall things. Names recall other names. But the lightning in my eyes is too bright now, and I'm falling down, because my skin is clamping on. I am a stranger. Make this home again. Keep me away from strange walls.

You don't understand what it feels like, to know that the flesh of a past person has been left behind you. My spirit has grown into something else. It's a container that I don't understand. Right now I feel like tiny bacteria that have simply spread to touch the surface of a pool, miles deeper. This is painful to my old body. Nothing pained, nothing gained. The pool of this music is so much deeper than the tones within. It has a movement, too. The notes make vibrations in the air. There is no break between my body and the music. It is light, and sound. Mere particles, but not merely. The day will come. My hour will be here. I just have to believe. I'm not leaving. Fear is only a test. You will fight the war of art. Even keel now. There will be more. I wait for the time now, because my eyes are so darkened.

These are idyllic times. They may look like after the apocalypse, but growth is everywhere. I held it in my hand. So hot, like a portable bonfire. I poked my finger into where it ate away at my skin. It made me flush red. I added my breath and it grew bigger. You've been there, when everything starts to sparkle in the cold. "We can't do all this harvesting without her." One day, they had one of these, and then they invented electricity. Our flesh now looks like lamplight. Your sparkle is subtle and mine is coiled. Dazzle, dazzle, you're a star. Because hope is warm and eternal, and winter is the best time for fire. Not everything begins as a supernova. Hold it in your hand.