I can’t think.

I have been pacing for hours.

My finger singes.
My cigarette has become nothing more than a glowing filter.
I toss it, and reach for my pack.

Empty.

Empty.

“Empty,” I say aloud. “It feels empty.”
It is hours before, and I am lying next to Him; with my secrets escaping from my lips.

Honest. Almost.

But it is in this moment that I realize, I care about Him more than He will ever know.
And more than I will ever admit.

I lift my eyes up to His.

But He isn’t smiling. He looks troubled.

And I am afraid.
I am afraid as He chooses His next words.
I am afraid as He speaks into the dark shadows of His room.

I stare longingly out my window now.
So many thoughts are racing through my mind.

But I can’t think.

I know I am hurting Him. I know I am hurting myself in the process.

What am I willing to sacrifice? My life? My love? For what?

A voice whispers back to me, “Because you don’t deserve it.”

I reach for my cigarettes.
Empty.

Madison



Mood: i need you

Because it did fade over time.

And then life pulled my feet back on the ground.
And I came to realize that there were just as many weaknesses as strengths.

Together we were never gods after all; just mortals.

But I thank you for leading me here.

Because I have found happiness here.
And whether this too will fade with time is anyone’s guess.

But it doesn't matter.
Because for the moment I am overjoyed with just how wonderful He is.

Madison



Mood: so beautiful

And now that part of me is different.

Life is a beautiful series of moments and all I really have to do in this life is accept them.
No one expects anything more.

And while sometimes those moments turn into chapters, ultimately even those chapters conclude.

But enough guilt; turn the page.

Madison



Mood: new page

He has the kind of energy that would carry a person with him whether she wanted to or not.

But at his touch, I experienced the strangest sense of vibrating elation.

I know this is going to hit, and this is going to hurt, but I welcome it all.

Madison



Mood: i feel, i feel

I raised my eyelids, as if I were taking off all my clothes.
But it was cold. And my coat was unzipped.

It looks better that way.

I cannot recall my thoughts. Perhaps I wasn’t thinking much at all.

The men at the table nearest the window eyed me. But my eyes darted up and down the street.

I still was half-heartedly hoping to cancel.
I’m not much for this anymore, you see.

But I am so appallingly naïve.

Madison



Mood: relish this memory

Oh, Saturday night
What a friend you are.

This is unknown, unforeseen, unexpected--so far.

Ah but for those fleeting moments when hands held together at the top of the world.

I suppose there is always some madness in this. But there is also always some reason in the madness.

Madison



Mood: if there is any reaction

He isn’t just watching.

He is singing and dancing. He is pulling rabbits out of a hat.
He is busy holding my attention every moment I’m awake.

He is making sure I’m always distracted.

He is making sure I’m fully absorbed.

Madison



Mood: silent way

Sometimes the worst things that can happen in life are actually the most remarkable things in disguise.

She is lovely.

You know the kind, a full on charmer; big brown eyes; an engaging smile.

Being amiably charismatic helps too.

I understand that at times this may read more like a fictional novel than reality, but trust me, there is no illusion in this. As to me, fiction is a waste of time; given that real life issues are much more relevant, and devastating, but still somehow so riveting.

Oh, the burden of dreaming of the simple life.

But She is lovely.

And I adore how She has this uncontrollable way of talking in circles that makes perfect sense to me.

But it is still surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.

Madison



Mood: a sudden freedom

He is in my room, outside my room, standing behind me, sitting next to me....

He is the wet breath that wheezes through the trees.
Some days I can see Him skulking on the horizon; or is that just sun witching through my curtains?

With the thickest of glasses, through the fuliginous of air, I can see His figure in my shadow.
He is penciled roughly on a sanatorium chart; like an eyeball, or a strappados, or a garrote.

But I still cringe as I see His elongated jaw.

Then there are those incidents.
He wanted me to help Him wash His hands; stir His mixture; help Him change after He made me digest most of it.

And now He wonders carelessly into my room.
He stares at me from across the table.

He doesn't blink much.

Madison



Mood: sober breath

The carrots went in strong, hard and unrelenting.
Only to wilt and become weak.

The eggs went in fragile, with a malleable heart.
Only to become hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they emerged from the boiling water, the water changed.

Madison



Mood: a new one arose

I might possibly have escaped His singing; but His silence?
Certainly never.

The phone rings.

Time compares Us.

One moment I'm floating through life, the next I'm on the receiving end of an alarming telephone call.
Or two.

And no, tragedy is not any easier the second, or third time around.

If you have ever had one of those sudden plot twists in your life, then you will know.

Madison



Mood: price I pay for a sister

Most of my life has taken place in a feeble corner of this gigantic world.

Thinking that hardly anyone had noticed, just imagine my surprise when the most powerful force showed up unannounced.

No strings.
No questions.

And that is how a divine disruption viciously distorted my view of the world.
And the way I live now.

Most days I still feel small and insignificant.
But this is nothing to how He has tainted my soul.

My thinking has become conceited, and spacious, and doesn't include you.

You see, perfect people with no problems will not benefit from my contents.

Madison



Mood: count souvenirs

A healed memory is not a deleted memory.

And in all the worlds, in all the universes, no other creature can make such a boast, save man.

But something tells me, even after a year, He is not the flowers kind of guy.

Still, I swear that I can feel His breath upon my skin.

But let me not deprive myself any longer of the chance to deplore how thin I have become.

Madison



Mood: inside the things

The rain licks my cold toes.

I look to my right, and I am not surprised to see Him sitting so casually next to me.
I know I am never alone.

"Tell me what you read, and I'll tell you who you are,” He smiles back at me.

I pause. And let the rain dance across my cold toes.
It tickles. It is refreshing.
I breathe in.

I read a lot.
And while His question is true enough I realize, as I stretch my fragile legs out into the rain, that I have an answer.

I pause.
And let the rain dance across my toes.

“But You’d know me better if You asked me what I reread,” I say.

He smiles. But doesn’t look at me.

Instead, He looks up into the cloud-covered sky above Us.
And the rain dances across His handsome face.

I rip my eyes from Him.

Madison



Mood: deplore how thin

But He is here. . .
And as I walked away from everyone, out of the shadows He emerged.

Slam!

It was so sudden.

And then I was pinned against a wall.
With His cold hands tight around my neck as He spit in my ear,

“Do you really think I’d allow you to leave me!”

It wasn't a question.

"Wherever you go, however far you run, you will never escape me!”

I gasped.

And just as suddenly, He was gone.

Madison



Mood: look for me

Those days are dead.
(please forgive me)

Those days are dead.
(please forgive me)

Those days are dead.
(please forgive me)

I am vices at fifty thousand degrees.

I said goodbye to the ground.
(I'm on my way to hell)

I said goodbye to the ground.
(I'm on my way to hell)

I said goodbye to the ground.
(I'm on my way to hell)

And I jumped.

Because. . .

How am I ever going to know peace?
(God knows that I've tried.)

How will I ever see the light?
(God knows that I've tried.)

How do I burn down everything I've begun?
(God knows that I've tried.)

But. . .

I'm on my way to hell. Now.

One time, two time, three times again.

Madison



Mood: need vices to wave

I am mortified. The voices in my head are screaming.
Tortured.

My cheeks are warm. My hands are shaking.

I want to punch something.
I want to bury my face in my pillow and scream and scream and scream.

But I come to an epiphany as I stand dripping wet, in my towel, with Her squeals reverberating words off a screen.

She is always reading his words back to me.
Echo.

I have taken for granted that he has assumed I was doing the reading.
But it was so wrong to assume such a thing.

And against my better judgment I act so out of character.

But I just want him to stop.

Just stop.

Madison



Mood: I'm not some

The spying eyes of sunrise find me stumbling into the store.
My usual coherent thoughts are undermined as sleep is still in the corners of my eyes.

Everything is grey matter; intertwined.

But still, I lurch forward; undaunted.

And I trace my steps as I scoop and measure the unrefined.

Instantly the roasted nirvana calms my nerves.
And it is that aroma that kisses me with an unpredicted peace of mind.

Madison



Mood: Deja brew

My life was once again packed up conveniently into a dozen or so boxes.

I associate this recurrence with being on par with a child learning to walk.

Only this time the verdict was mine.

Maybe I am simply accustomed to the congestion and noise, the high-rises, the commuting from one end to the other, the crush of people all day; every day, the density, the dirt, public transit that is never quite good enough, the lights, the sirens, the collective emotion, the hawkers, the energy, the diversity, the anonymity, the indifference, and the smog.

I am neither glorifying, nor degrading my being weaned back into the metropolis.

I have missed being anonymous in such a vast place.

And it is this City, this metropolis, that makes all the difference to me.

It is like going home.

Madison



Mood: in any city on earth

I walk around in circles.

But I am the center.

You always hear what I say, even when I whisper.
You look at me with that predator disposition.
Wherever I might want to go, You are already there.

If I stop at a gas station, You are right behind me.

If I don’t have enough money, You choke the gas attendant to make certain there is no charge.

If I lock myself out of my house, You somehow have my extra key.


You whisper some inaudible noise.
I look around and see no one.
I stutter.
You say, “Relax.”
I quickly turn.
And only from the corner of my eye do I see You disappear behind me.

Why me? 


I appreciate that I have taken for granted the unique and rare occurrences in my life.

For instance, having more than just You become grippingly besotted with me.

But I suppose autonomy isn’t part of who I am.
So, like ants, with one following the other, the Yous of this world keep marching around me. And, grudgingly, I permit You to do so.

And yet, I can’t, however hard I may try, impede my romanticizing that You must still have better wonders than me in Your own backyard.

Madison



Mood: my ears are ringing

The ceiling fan above me now twirls languidly, dangling and swaying from my embossed cream ceiling. I lay staring up at it as shadows cut through the muted fluorescence. A passing headlight disrupts my solitude.

The resulting flickering makes the scene into a silent movie.

And without delay a piped-in, ancient, scratchy, re-mastered piano jazz melody drifts softly from of my memories.

And I reminisce.

The noir ease of the days afternoon coffee;
In the new part of our old town;
And a discussion over a caffeinated history.

The two of us weaving through the years past like a fine, delicate lace.

The design unravels details, simplicity, and sometimes flaws. But the two of us mesh together the pieces, each bonded by the cup.

Whether it was real or imagined, the sip after black and white sip continues on.

But unlike the noir films, such an answer is not black and white. Today is simply a compromised grey.

So eventually, the two of us part.
And I step lightly onto the cobblestone street, with my right hand still warmed by the cup.

I take a steamy sip, and smile.

Madison



Mood: cross my path again

The smell of that black coffee; bitter, rich, warm.

This dark liquid reflects them to me.

I will miss this.

I will miss it all; more than I ever imagined.

Madison.



Mood: low coffee light is on

In that mood, I greeted Him when He entered the room.

“Good afternoon." I paused, and added; "darling.”

He raised His eyebrow; “Am I your darling again?”

I frowned. “Please don’t mock me anymore.”

His infuriating grin vanished. “Never again. I promise.”

Then He drew close; too close. Close enough for Him to see my soul.
My eyes are green; His are dark.

He said, “Life has hurt Us again.”

“A worse hurt than these hurts that I have already endured?”

“No.” He sighed, “I suppose not.”

Then He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
Perplexed, I stood dumbfounded.

But He suddenly exclaimed, “You are the most captivating woman in the world.”

Disheveled I couldn't hide my melancholy tone as I whispered, “Yes, isn’t life surprising.”

Madison



Mood: my perfect is pretend

“My suggestion didn't go at all well. I'm sorry.”

“Oh! But You don't understand. It's well, I'm not that sort of type.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Well I don't belong in their sort of world.”

“Oh? What is their sort of world?”

“Well, I - oh - You know what I mean.”

“Well now, I'm the best judge on whether you belong now or not...
Of course, if you don't love me anymore that's a different story. And I’ll blame it on my apathetic conceit; that's all.”

"Oh! But I do love You!
I love you most dreadfully.
I've been crying all morning because I thought I'd have to leave You behind.”

Then He smiled as He said;

Madison



Mood: I never said thank you

Sometimes the last thing I want comes in first.
And sometimes the first thing I want never comes.

I’ve always stayed away from a certain type.

The type that makes empty promises just to seal the deal.
The type that takes no regard whatsoever of how I may feel.

I hadn’t meant too.

But he never understood.
Or maybe he refused to.
Either way, he never really listened to what I was saying.

Never.
Listened.

So, no, I hadn't meant to.
But I did.
And I had to.

Word of advice; I dread being cornered.

I always said I would get what I deserve; and I am a man of my word.

And suddenly, all this makes me think of Him.

Even though the pain may be fading, His memory still haunts me so.

Because I fell.

I fell for His type.

The type that I loved behind closed doors.
The type that didn’t know when to fight …or flee.

Still, I just can’t forget that feeling.
And I find I'm still counting.

Thirty-six.

It has been thirty-six weeks.

But I always said I would get what I deserve; and I am a man of my word.

Still I do not miss who I used to be before all this.
Because I am too fucked up to care anymore.

And I have lost my sight again, just like I said I would.

Madison



Mood: maybe it was only a dream