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tearsneverfail
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Name: Scott
Country: United States
State: Tennessee
Metro: Kingsport
Birthday: 1/1/1983
Gender: Male
Interests: unmade beds:messy rooms:fiction:really sad songs:banjos:pale colors:dark colors:neutral colors:not bright colors:graffiti:things that are fascinating:ADD:astrology:crosswords:story telling:william gibson:nerds:geeks:writing:full moons:cooking:alleghory:symbolism:horror movies:bein posi:not sleeping normal hours
Expertise: using huuuuuuuge words.
Occupation: Other
Industry: Other
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  xrespeknucklesx
Member Since:
1/29/2003
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| I watched her push the scuba mask back down on
her face quickly, like she was up to something, hiding
her smile but only halfway. The tangy smell of saltwater
would always inspire me pornographically after that day.
With her mask set she sank slowly and deliberately,
like an alligator, plotting; we'd been there only 4 hours.
I could see her flippers scratch the surface of the water
like an itch every few seconds, moving like random
geometry under the mirror of seawater.
The white sand clinging between my toes like miniature
barnacles was so bright it seemed fake, like a high resolution
picture brought to life. I imagined what she was seeing in
the cold water and if she'd see it the same with me swimming
next to her. The beach is empty and the sun is lounging on
the horizon like its a hammock, turning the water into a
desert that shines like cold diamonds with no surface tension.
Then I realize that while daydreaming I've lost her between
waves, the neon green tube winking out of sight and not coming
back up in the same spot. I panic: The ocean at dusk has always
been terrifying to me, It's the only thing I've ever seen that can
be enormous but still feel empty, moving but still feel motionless,
burying its own evidence like a murderer. I wait and look for her
to come slowly floating up, revealing her joke, winking at me like a
punchline. Time bends and melts like a Salvador Dali painting
around me easing into the footprints dying in the tide. Noiselessly.
Theres a moment where the space on all sides collapses on
me and my chest protests claustrophobically, not seeing the
difference between no space and too much space. I pace.
Look up and down the shore for amsers but only find the same
white sand and the same dunes repeating into the distance. I
can't remember where I am, what beach, what country, what
continent. I want to scream but I don't know what language
would be most efficient but the more I look the more I know.
Understand. That no ones going to hear me. I am completely alone.
Stranded. I watch the last light wink out like the power during a
thunderstorm. Turning the ocean into a swamp dark and opaque.
I sit down in the same hole I left before and put my face in my hands
and think. Replaying the half smile hidden by a rented scuba mask.
The memory doesn't seem reliable. I know it'll be the last time that
I see her face. I take one last look around, getting used to my
surroundings, the waves and the repetition. Knowing, fully, the
idea settling into my bones like river silt that I'll never leave this
beach again.
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| Around the corner, carefully
spread under the weight of
an artificial skeleton
partially collapsed like light
bent in a glass;displaced.
I spit static at her feet
like a broken tv threat
in the middle of a storm
while times face spins
and gives away pieces of
itself, generously, hand over hand
slowly becoming expended.
We've become victimized
by spacial distortion, left
with no options. Standing
as question marks with
long shadows as dusk dies
making gestures with mouths
that build dust on bedsheets.
I tell her that I love her like
liferafts and that in the ocean
of days she is keeping me afloat.
The words break the ground into
uneven sections, missing all fault
lines and creating walls of syllables,
tall like trees that flower and cut off
all lines, leaving us momentarily
incommunicado. | | |
| I made a home
for myself there
on the beach at
the end of the world
breaking shafts of
light across my knee
as if they were wood
or hearts
or other things
that you can use
to start fires
under a weak shelter
made of open air
and palm fronds
strung together like
sudden coincidences
I spent moonlight carving
art into the sand
to be washed away
like sins at high tide
under a sky always
the color of the sea
below; reflected.
walking the shore in
slow concentric circles
I built a map with no
tools or paper, using
the wrinkles and scars
on my hands as homemade
topography; proof of life.
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| She sits behind 4 plates of glass
watching the clouds and the
colors separate in the sky;
waiting with eyes big
like harvest moons and
a heartbeat stifled like
gunshots from blocks away.
5 full thoughts from fragile
she's obsessed with the
concept of space and what
too much of it can do to a person
and I left my own philosophies
on the subject, written in code
across the back of her knuckles
tapped out like biorhythms in perfect time.
I've got strong hands built entirely of
ink where I hold a strange heart
and I'm learning to rewire
my nature with hers so we can
coexist on the same planes simultaneously;
I watch her pinch the bridge of her nose
and I'm cleaning and adjusting
the pair of glasses that sit comfortably
on mine, allowing me to see
the spaces between our shared syllables
and I'm synchronizing our watches
to the pace that we fall into naturally
breaths held like tongues and
left in our lungs to be forgotten.
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