call you me fair?

"I'm not about to settle for anything less than maturity, honesty, humor, and unbridled passion.

When you kiss me, it better be good.
When you touch me, it better be tender but firm with clear intent from the start.
When you speak to me, you better make me laugh HARD.
When you meet me, you better look me in the eye.
When we embrace, you better smell like heaven.
When we wake up in the morning, you better roll over and get into my arms.
When we go out places, you better not hide me for one moment.
When we see a movie, you better hold my hand and squeeze at the good parts. Or bad ones.
When you see my art, you better tell me what you think AND WHY.
When we get ready to go to dinner, you better help me tie my tie even if you're bad at it."
-From John's Blog
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when you dig my grave
gravedigger
damn.
where was I?
250- something?

counting the dots on my popcorn ceiling

waiting
waiting.
procrastinating.

i can almost smell you now.
sitting here in the dim light. if i stay just still enough, with the covers up over my nose, i can almost still smell you. your skin leaving its mark on the sheets.

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i remember the first time i was near you after the end. you standing just close enough. the wind blowing in just the right way. that your smell overcame me all at once, like a large wave knocking over a child. pulling it back in as it goes.

i had to clench my teeth just to keep from breaking.

i wrote it into my show. no. i stole it from another show and called it my own.
"sometimes i turn around and catch the smell of you, and i cannot go on i cannot fucking go on without expressing this terrible so fucking awful physical longing i have for you..."

but all was good. we were. good.

and now here i am counting the dots on my popcorn ceiling, trying to catch the last note of you.

but it has been gone a long time. you have been gone a long time. and its not that i miss you anymore. its not that i wish things were different between us. but the silence. the quiet. under this popcorn ceiling. i cant help but hold the covers a little closer. waiting. wishing.

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i have figured out the formula to this madness. the reason behind the thoughts. its not you that i am missing. its the body. the entity. the person. a reason to wake up in the morning. someone to stand by me. to hold me. someone for me to wrap my arms around and call mine. someone for me to kiss and whose eyes i can get lost in. someone who will look after me when i am sick. someone for me to hold hands with. someone for me to give that 'slanted smile' to. i miss the idea of you.

or so i tell myself.

i am en expert at holding on to pain. residual feelings. missing things that may not have ever been there to begin with. call me an emotional masochist. i seem to enjoy the torture. revel in my misery, simply because you are happy.

no. thats not true.

we begin again.
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stop it. ha...
"tried that, didn't work..."

i am an endless box of quotations. give me time, and i can make art out of my babble. catch me off guard, and all you get is mud. i have no solutions for this rut. no instant formula to solve this world of popcorn ceilings.
where is the sky?

[omit]

we begin again.
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how do i begin again when all i do is compare the next one to you? to this idea in my mind that isnt even true? nothing compares. thats the problem. my imagination has taken over. my mind has created world upon world. vast cities of love. and when reality doesnt match up, i hide under my covers, trying to smell what could have been.

its time to pull off these sheets. no. its time to pack these sheets away in a box and move. put away my ideas and stop staring at my popcorn ceiling.

my sky is out there.

stupid. inspirational. clap-trap.
cheesy.

no more.