Mr. Black
Why do I call you that? I don't even remember anymore.
Why do you fascinate me so? I guess it’s safe to say that I’m in ruin now. It’s safe to say that I’m fixated now that I’m committing this to paper.
I guess I’ve always seen you around. Over the years I’ve become tuned to your peripheral soul. I’ve felt your presence, so tenuous that you were barely swimming along the shores of my cognizance but lately, you’re everywhere to me. The dreams that I had of you as a teenager have become more frequent and I could swear that you were almost real.
I used to try wish you into existence and you would appear thus. Hiding out behind the souls of others, who turn out to never really be you- just the carrier of another failed relationship. Recently though, I’ve been seeing you out of the corner of my eye. I blink you away to the back of my mind, but you’re fiercely persistent, pulling me back to the times when you came to me in the middle of the night, in the middle of my depression, in the middle of your depression (or sheer boredom- as it turns out by way of your self-diagnosis). Lately I’ve felt you slipping into the spaces between my thoughts and breath, where you take shape once more from a land of light and sand and coax me into another emotional disaster.
And yet
I’m always trying to find that trigger…that single reason to explain why your every word becomes absorbed into my skin, and tattooed across my bones. There they remain until you alone, with your x-ray vision, can come along, recognize them and finally render me sane.
lay in wait
Why do you fascinate me so? I guess it’s safe to say that I’m in ruin now. It’s safe to say that I’m fixated now that I’m committing this to paper.
I guess I’ve always seen you around. Over the years I’ve become tuned to your peripheral soul. I’ve felt your presence, so tenuous that you were barely swimming along the shores of my cognizance but lately, you’re everywhere to me. The dreams that I had of you as a teenager have become more frequent and I could swear that you were almost real.
I used to try wish you into existence and you would appear thus. Hiding out behind the souls of others, who turn out to never really be you- just the carrier of another failed relationship. Recently though, I’ve been seeing you out of the corner of my eye. I blink you away to the back of my mind, but you’re fiercely persistent, pulling me back to the times when you came to me in the middle of the night, in the middle of my depression, in the middle of your depression (or sheer boredom- as it turns out by way of your self-diagnosis). Lately I’ve felt you slipping into the spaces between my thoughts and breath, where you take shape once more from a land of light and sand and coax me into another emotional disaster.
And yet
I’m always trying to find that trigger…that single reason to explain why your every word becomes absorbed into my skin, and tattooed across my bones. There they remain until you alone, with your x-ray vision, can come along, recognize them and finally render me sane.
lay in wait
posted by diadima at 3:19 AM
9 Comments:
Wow. Very nice writing.
Can I get in on that marriage?
underhill, tony, nick: i'm pretty sure polyandry is illegal in canada, but thanks for the proposals dahlings.
hermes: thanks!
Can I just have some pie, then?
if you're a good boy
It could be a new suspect in the game of Clue.
thro192. i wonder that myself. obviously the subject of this post is a dream person i've made up who i sometimes think i see in others. i've always referred to him as mr. black because he's shadowy and unclear to me at best.when i first dreamt of him, it was the middle of the night and he was a black figure walking up the street toward me. also- i've always thought of him as having dark eyes, dark hair, and dressing in dark clothes.
so there it is.
*checks wardrobe*
Nope not I, but i must say being part of women's dreams isnt something I think I've achieved in this life.
*insert nightmare joke here*
That mr. black guy hangs out in my dream town sometimes. He's the one that always gives me the bicyles with flat tires or sends me down the muddy path darn it!
yeah he's kind of a bastard.
but the story works with the photo of me feigning sleep, so that's that.
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