There’s a tender stillness, a blessed inertia, as we watch each other. Again, he tries to make himself remember something he’ll inevitably forget. Again, I try to believe that this time, he’ll manage it. We both know we’re lying to ourselves, but we let it happen.
I would give you half my body if I could, for all it’s worth. I would rip it apart with my bare hands and carry it to you in a heart shaped box or a cut glass coffin or bleeding through my fingers.
Sometimes it feels like we’re the only ones who really see each other. Inevitable and invisible. They look at anything but us. We have those kind of faces. The face of a clock, the face of the light they see at the end. Or what they imagine is the end. Whatever.
A rough and ready contemporary reimagining of an urban gangster All Father.
The blood was warm through my fingers, over my hands, soaking my clothes. All my own blood for a change.
One month ago, I stood next to my car with you, experiencing the dawning realisation that this was going nowhere.
And in the end, it all came back to energy. Kilojoules, calories, newtons, lumens, decibels, volts...mostly volts.
I think an airport is the only place where it’s socially acceptable to drink at seven o’clock on a Tuesday morning.
Believe it or not, this is absolutely not how I intended to spend my evening, but when it came down to it either he was going to get to keep breathing or I was, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.
I had begun to understand height after travelling in an aeroplane for the first time the year before, but I had no concept of depth.