this means war.

can we stop and talk please? can just you and me go on a walk and talk for hours? can i tell you a story? it's older than i could ever be but is everything i can be. right now,

at this moment in time, let me tell you. i've nothing but five dollars in cash, a bus pass, a pocket full of hopes, a bowl packed of green, and stone walls around me such that no army could ever pass. and i am slowly, bit by bit, allowing the stone to sink in. have it's way and influence.

and then nothing can touch me. if i am stone, solid and cold, nothing can hurt any more. stone has no memory or trauma in its past. it is still and cool and strong.

it's a far cry from here and maybe i should be there.

...floating. i am
in and out of everything. i am split, noncommittedly evenly. i am that kiss on the cheek, half quickly,
half
breathed. your hand's at my nape, mine cradles the back of your skull. and we can tip toe 'round and breathe in the smells of summer yet coming. beer is on
the breeze.

...slamming. an open door in the wind, never locked. ripped
open and pinned wall to wall with little blue location pins. slowly sinking, leaving behind every day. i am soon to be consumed by relief or release or resentment or
the the rictus you wear on your heart.