Furnace
Ex-Bluelighter
Don't be afraid, she says, to lay in my room.
I get up from that uncomfortably small couch that
cannot contain my large body, and walk into her
room.
Past the door, I notice the Alex Garland sitting
next to the Paulo Coelho. I smirk, shake my
head, and look at the mirror.
My reflection looking back at me.
Past the drawings of heart shakras,
reiki mantras, rave flyers, handdrums, and
pictures of her and me.
I turn and fall on the bed.
Three pillows.
One duvet.
A Charmander pokeman stuffed toy that has beeb substituted for a pillow many times.
That smell of her.
On my back, I look forward and see books about
catholicism and simulations of God. I've asked
her about her faith many times. Even though she
was raised catholic, she isn't practicing
anymore.
She doesn't believe the pope is a man of God, and
doesn't respect the "sanctity" of the church.
Mind you, she believes in God as much as I do,
but we're in agreement on how religion runs
people's lives so much that it denies their own
happiness.
I await my slumber, lying down in her spot.
She comes into the room, and tells me
that she's going to join me.
I roll over, the sounds of the street echo
through the open window.
She lays next to me, leans her firm body next to
mine. No need to ask, she assumes her position next to me.
I lay my arm around her,
whisper in her ear,
"thanks for being here".
The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness,
"You're welcome, baby."
[ 16 July 2002: Message edited by: Furnace ]
I get up from that uncomfortably small couch that
cannot contain my large body, and walk into her
room.
Past the door, I notice the Alex Garland sitting
next to the Paulo Coelho. I smirk, shake my
head, and look at the mirror.
My reflection looking back at me.
Past the drawings of heart shakras,
reiki mantras, rave flyers, handdrums, and
pictures of her and me.
I turn and fall on the bed.
Three pillows.
One duvet.
A Charmander pokeman stuffed toy that has beeb substituted for a pillow many times.
That smell of her.
On my back, I look forward and see books about
catholicism and simulations of God. I've asked
her about her faith many times. Even though she
was raised catholic, she isn't practicing
anymore.
She doesn't believe the pope is a man of God, and
doesn't respect the "sanctity" of the church.
Mind you, she believes in God as much as I do,
but we're in agreement on how religion runs
people's lives so much that it denies their own
happiness.
I await my slumber, lying down in her spot.
She comes into the room, and tells me
that she's going to join me.
I roll over, the sounds of the street echo
through the open window.
She lays next to me, leans her firm body next to
mine. No need to ask, she assumes her position next to me.
I lay my arm around her,
whisper in her ear,
"thanks for being here".
The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness,
"You're welcome, baby."
[ 16 July 2002: Message edited by: Furnace ]
