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Tian

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August 25

A Mosquito Lullaby

More and more often, I feel like I can't take this.
 
Last night, I ran through the woods in my pajamas and climbed the biggest tree I could find, purse in hand, where I reclined on a bough until I fell asleep in Grandfather Oak's gnarled embrace -- his arms older yet stronger than I'll ever be.
 
And the world stood, an angry mob in the dried riverbed, throwing rocks at me.  But it didn't matter.
 
I was too high.
August 01

Memory Lane vs Suicide Alley

I had nightmares about my aunt last night.  I had dreams I was dancing with the dead.  I've felt like throwing up all day.  It's like I'm right back there ten years ago being killed in the basement of Memory Lane only to escape and hold my lover as she turned cold and hard in my arms amongst the shadows of Suicide Alley.
 
 
 
May 25

Estate Sale of the Soon-To-Be-Dead

In a few hours, you will be calling me

To tell me that it's gone forever and that I have

Nothing

To show for it.

 

And I'll be busy showing old ladies around my house

So that they can buy up my life for a dime.

Would you take a nickel?

 

And I'll wonder what that buzzing is in my pocket.

And even after I figure it out,

I won't answer

Because I'd gasp or drop the phone or kick something,

Causing everyone to turn and stare

And leave without buying anything.

April 05

Dammedsel in Distress

sweating
moaning
 
i lie here
broken
waiting
 
and i want you here
 
to lift me
and hold me
and tell me i don’t stink
and dab my watering eyes until the well inside
is dry
and brush the matted hair from my face so i
don't choke
and kiss my tingling lips to let them know
they can still feel
 
my breath becomes your breath and we
melt
into each other
into the fading night but
in the morning i’ll have forgotten
 
and we’ll be fine

 
My friend came and got me and took me back to her apartment.
March 29

Sleeping With The Fishes

What does one do when waking life is unbearable?  When sleep leads to cold sweats?  When meditation invokes their dying screams?  When inebriation changes one's own breath into a death rattle?
 
Last night I dreamt that I jumped into the sea and swam until the salty brine turned into the unmistakable metallicism of blood on my tongue.  I drank it in and sank deeper and deeper until I came face to face with a mako.
 
'I want to be you,' I said, 'so that I can see the world through your eyes.'
 
Then I tilted my head back, exposing my throat.  My jugular.
 
The shark bit firmly but lightly, pressing just the points of its razor-tipped rows of teeth into my flesh -- injecting into me a riddle as antidotal as it was venomous:
 
A fish can never understand what it is to fly.  An ant can't comprehend the meaning behind 'why?'    No amount of wondering or studying my eyes will let you know the reason that we all must die.
 
The beast eased its grip, its powerful jaws almost gentle, nurturing. But deadly, still.  And it brought me back to the shore, laying me supine in the sand.  The crescent of its dorsal fin rapidly grew small as it swam away -- like the moon running from daylight -- until it slipped silently beyond the horizon.