Asghar Abbas's Blog - Posts Tagged "mine"
VIAND
You are faceless but not nameless, you know. Still, you are the only girl I'd want to want right now. August sure, borrowed oh yeah; in the middle of the middle of this spectacular now; you are the only girl I want to love. This is what this new song in this new place is really about.
I am listening to it and you are prettily applying the freshly mixed paint on my face, stirring the moon in your name as you do so, your pudgy fingers cool against my skin, leaving behind willowy traces of your mind. I just might be a little resentful here. It’s a warm reversal, I know, there is no beauty here, no grace, and certainly no beast, only a certain rawness. But you’re applying the paint and I am going to War.
See, I used the arcane word Love in this spell and not the secular word Like. Also, I used the pretentious word Want. But what exactly have you lost, who are you really?
Let’s try this again. You are the only girl I want to love. Despite everything and in spite of all the reasons. Not to. I know, I know why I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But maybe you should? It’s a cliché, so what? We are playing long overdue game of clichés here anyways.
But we are done playing and you are already sitting on the throne, sadly not on my lap. Though to be fair, I abdicated that chair for you and now I stand attainted by you. You sneaky little schemer. Your fakeness is genuine at least.
You once told me you weren’t a good person. There are times when I actually believe you and believe that completely. Now is certainly one of those times. To be sure, this is the last time we will be doing this. This War between us must cease, it must. You are no Anne, but One more chance, one more. Look, there’s a full moon out tonight, let’s get you full too, though you are already floating on water like the fat slug that you are.
You are not all there, but you are not in an asylum, not yet anyway. Let’s put you in there. You are not quite right in the head; but you are too fake to be fake.
Typicality I just won’t let you do, what’s typical in this world is already dulling my pages. My story of you is already smearing around the edges of the papers, blurring the sea I am sketching for the lost you that's adrift in it. You are smudging the dead trees and they didn’t die for you. You are anything but typical, so how can I abide that?
Did I tell you just how much I admire what you have been trying to do here, with your one chance at this? It's just that a huge part of me always thought I'd be a small part of your progress, of your campaign, in your gentle struggles to be real again. With the every thrust of your trusted sword, my fingers just touching the hilt propelling your claims, encouraging, inflaming you.
Do you know how proud I am of you for coloring outside the lines?
Do you hear that? That song isn’t a farewell, why are you hiding from it?
But I do think, I think we are both doomed to build things here that this world won’t let us build.
But like I mentioned, I must have. Be assured, this is the last time we’ll wake up together in your thoughts. This time you didn’t disarm me, how was I to know. All it took was for you to dip into water, into an intimate sea and you became my official Muse. Officially Dead sure, but a muse nonetheless. Skeletal hope. I mean, you are my kind of crazy, you are the type of fucked up I can do. You are not Harley Quinn; you are the Joker; why aren’t you smiling?
What I am asking you to do is, to darken your world and lighten mine, but if for some reason that can’t happen, no regrets. I want to assure you no hard feelings. Oh there will be feelings, but just not not those kind of feelings.
I’d still want you to go on and find whatever it is that you are looking for in your life, in one of your nine lives and to take what this world is trying to hide from you.
But until then
let’s do this.
I am waiting, even though you are not coming.
I am listening to it and you are prettily applying the freshly mixed paint on my face, stirring the moon in your name as you do so, your pudgy fingers cool against my skin, leaving behind willowy traces of your mind. I just might be a little resentful here. It’s a warm reversal, I know, there is no beauty here, no grace, and certainly no beast, only a certain rawness. But you’re applying the paint and I am going to War.
See, I used the arcane word Love in this spell and not the secular word Like. Also, I used the pretentious word Want. But what exactly have you lost, who are you really?
Let’s try this again. You are the only girl I want to love. Despite everything and in spite of all the reasons. Not to. I know, I know why I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But maybe you should? It’s a cliché, so what? We are playing long overdue game of clichés here anyways.
But we are done playing and you are already sitting on the throne, sadly not on my lap. Though to be fair, I abdicated that chair for you and now I stand attainted by you. You sneaky little schemer. Your fakeness is genuine at least.
You once told me you weren’t a good person. There are times when I actually believe you and believe that completely. Now is certainly one of those times. To be sure, this is the last time we will be doing this. This War between us must cease, it must. You are no Anne, but One more chance, one more. Look, there’s a full moon out tonight, let’s get you full too, though you are already floating on water like the fat slug that you are.
You are not all there, but you are not in an asylum, not yet anyway. Let’s put you in there. You are not quite right in the head; but you are too fake to be fake.
Typicality I just won’t let you do, what’s typical in this world is already dulling my pages. My story of you is already smearing around the edges of the papers, blurring the sea I am sketching for the lost you that's adrift in it. You are smudging the dead trees and they didn’t die for you. You are anything but typical, so how can I abide that?
Did I tell you just how much I admire what you have been trying to do here, with your one chance at this? It's just that a huge part of me always thought I'd be a small part of your progress, of your campaign, in your gentle struggles to be real again. With the every thrust of your trusted sword, my fingers just touching the hilt propelling your claims, encouraging, inflaming you.
Do you know how proud I am of you for coloring outside the lines?
Do you hear that? That song isn’t a farewell, why are you hiding from it?
But I do think, I think we are both doomed to build things here that this world won’t let us build.
But like I mentioned, I must have. Be assured, this is the last time we’ll wake up together in your thoughts. This time you didn’t disarm me, how was I to know. All it took was for you to dip into water, into an intimate sea and you became my official Muse. Officially Dead sure, but a muse nonetheless. Skeletal hope. I mean, you are my kind of crazy, you are the type of fucked up I can do. You are not Harley Quinn; you are the Joker; why aren’t you smiling?
What I am asking you to do is, to darken your world and lighten mine, but if for some reason that can’t happen, no regrets. I want to assure you no hard feelings. Oh there will be feelings, but just not not those kind of feelings.
I’d still want you to go on and find whatever it is that you are looking for in your life, in one of your nine lives and to take what this world is trying to hide from you.
But until then
let’s do this.
I am waiting, even though you are not coming.
WOMEN AND HORSES By RANA KELLY.
trembling skin.
come on to me,
slow slow slow,
and know.
wild-eyed and rolling, ready to bolt.
shattered, heaving sides.
shiver, shiver, shake
down your spine.
frozen, still ready to shake loose and hurt me
just in case.
because you know.
run my hand down quaking flanks,
speckled sweat, kiss your face, stroke your lips
storms and lightning in your eyes.
you know the sting and slash of whip-
boot heel, knee, fist.
whatever he had round at the time.
i feel it too, i felt it too.
sweet sweet girl.
with deep and shuttered eyes.
it’s the tight line of your spine when i reach for you,
and you lean and slide, reel and wheel, away.
gather up your strength little girl.
gather up your wind, show it to me.
silent now, lower your face to me.
lower your face to me.
breathe deep, don’t let him see you frighten,
don’t let him see your fear.
low low low, i blow on your skin,
touch the velvet under your eyes.
rim my finger on the seam of your ear.
shh shh shh. it’s all right.
lower your face to me.
ease down your eyes,
drift them down slowly.
lean to me, give me some weight.
i know the look of you-
coiled and strung
like hanging meat.
hooks and things-
until you break
until you break.
i know you.
what i was.
who knows us.
who knows what men can do
but women and horses.
come on to me,
slow slow slow,
and know.
wild-eyed and rolling, ready to bolt.
shattered, heaving sides.
shiver, shiver, shake
down your spine.
frozen, still ready to shake loose and hurt me
just in case.
because you know.
run my hand down quaking flanks,
speckled sweat, kiss your face, stroke your lips
storms and lightning in your eyes.
you know the sting and slash of whip-
boot heel, knee, fist.
whatever he had round at the time.
i feel it too, i felt it too.
sweet sweet girl.
with deep and shuttered eyes.
it’s the tight line of your spine when i reach for you,
and you lean and slide, reel and wheel, away.
gather up your strength little girl.
gather up your wind, show it to me.
silent now, lower your face to me.
lower your face to me.
breathe deep, don’t let him see you frighten,
don’t let him see your fear.
low low low, i blow on your skin,
touch the velvet under your eyes.
rim my finger on the seam of your ear.
shh shh shh. it’s all right.
lower your face to me.
ease down your eyes,
drift them down slowly.
lean to me, give me some weight.
i know the look of you-
coiled and strung
like hanging meat.
hooks and things-
until you break
until you break.
i know you.
what i was.
who knows us.
who knows what men can do
but women and horses.
