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June 01, 2004 - 4:59 a.m.

sex, like a movie that has kept me transfixed straight through the credits,

and i am rolling.

The lights come back on, slowly, flickering like a bulb whose contact is questionable, on...but just barely. I wonder whether it is sweat or tears that keep my cheeks so hot.

Our bed is humid. you tell me I am wrong. The bed alone is not capable of this heat. It's like ... a desert i say, but not... because... it's just not. Except in some ways.

I am parched. Words are failing, like the inconsistency of light... speech flickers also, scarecely, teasingly, illuminating the shape of my thoughts. I wake, after dreams of Dr. Moreau-like animal mutations, tiny kittens that long for human touch but climb walls like bats and turn, into something else. Impossibly, the walls are scaled and traversed. My heart crushes, I cannot help but be moved. I carry you in my arms, helpless as i am to help them, I wake to sheets pulled close. The soft skin of these mutilated animals disturbs me, so fascinated are we with disgust... the rock we turn to see the worms beneath, forcing me into the darkness of this room, the darkness that is too warnm. It is 4 am and you wake to straighten the sheets, to smooth me. and i am reminded of the tangle of our bodies, in this bed and how it came to be this way.

i have never been so much myself, so willing to be anything under your hands. Sleep, i tell myself. The animals have two legs here and no scars. Watch every credit roll past white eyes, behind sleepless lids and off into a place you will never remember them, except in a vagueness like that hotness on my cheek, and the curl of your arm that redirects my thoughts, away from my head and back into myself. You are the perfect distraction. you help me to sleep again. But not until i have caught these thoughts, given credit where it is due. I will write you up these walls, and record all your movements, we will replay them always but never know the end until that flush returns and we remember why i sometimes cry at that part. I will rewind this tape, recalling each shadow on the wall, so that sleep may come and erase all memories. Save this.

 

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