December 22nd, 1998
I sift the wind for the answers to questions I'm too afraid to ask, as the solutions I yearn for are muffled by the clamour of your pride - a fragment of masochism which pretends to shelter you.
The authenticity of your deceit never ceases to astound, as does my gospel of lies. There isn't anything or anyone we haven't been. In my blindness I perceived your every glance, for in my vanity you are my priority, my self obsession. I am illiterate; I have read every account of your life and though I am fatigued there is no shade of your soul where I haven't rested. I radiated warmth through numbness and responded to every whispered heartbeat. Yeah I'm incoherent, but I've pondered every reflection of your mind. Those simple deliberations and chaotic perplexities. At least their confusion and obscurity make sense.
Searching for you is like seeking corners in bubbles. Their spherical perfection bursts with the tiniest caress. Spectra of illusions are apparent, delusions easy to choose, but their existence is superficial.
I beg you to tell me what I am, as I remain ignorant - a chalcedonic non-chalance clinging to a whim.
The knowledge of experience is a stranger to my heart. Yesterday's ashes from the cremation of dreams born in my own historical fiction are re-ignited by the touch of our gazes. Yet no fire is hot enough not to burn, once more each dormant desire is flamed. This hurt peals with an intense vociference that is silence. Can you hear me?
December 28th, 1998
A perfume of radiance veils my stench of misery to create an aura of adequacy. I try and fill aching voids with memories of passion, but they evolve into reminders of regret. Once more I've dropped the catch, lost the championship of togetherness, but I always make the final.
At dawn I found the corners in the bubbles and bathed in their foam. At noon, the tide threw me against crags whose danger signs I'd ignored. I tried to swim against the current of fate. I drowned. Now the sun has set, and the grains of love are too fine to catch, but my heart still foolishly sifts the wind.
