hard.exe

The narrative unfolds in a narrow lane, each stone feels the steps of habitual feet. Rain notices the umbrella symbols, every puddle reflects incomplete déjà-vu. Next door, behind the café window, shadows speak softly in the steam. A baker hums a forgotten chanson, bread rhymes come out caramelized. I choose your back among fluent strays, to say nothing until we've crossed to the other anecdote. We look back, missing the exact moment where speech detaches from what it names.

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We agree: Moving forward we'll only say "I love you" when we know what we mean the word a sound stretched like a hand cracking the echo chamber of estranger dictionaries open – Here, see this is skin, warm like a promise, hungrier than the future

1 vote

The last time you worked with gravity you left a sound and spilled your body all: ↳ over ↳ in all ↳ or nothing → nothing but you and a lump boring through a handful of decades and amnesia and joyful rot and I miss you

2 votes

Particles ligaments of absence I arrive, there, absence 1.12 AM particles dance but do not touch at exactly the same time I desire and I don't exist just this_Hertz vibration of blood particles & particles collision electric spark without charge this car's tuba bellen aerodynamics later somewhere in a fizz of urban particles this ghostly fish egg of your absence

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at dawn the street forgets us gravel sings about footsteps we kept for ourselves your absence a returned light that causes the dust to dance drops the clock's hand I watch the seconds sail through your absence each moment is stamps I collect with no one to exchange them against words which drift towards the horizon

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This was in Barcelona / Nossara / Carcassonne / in a church / underwater / in broad daylight / on a couch / against a wall / drenched in god's sweat / eyes rolling / white ghost suns / 3d printing skin / red mother / white knuckles / tied free / falling yes / no need to / walk today

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Each ray unfurls wasteful ties on the pavements. A global fabric shivers, survival scoffs delays. Grey clock face marked afternoon. The empty cafe refuses speeches of inked chairs. Light dissolves instead of concrete speeches. A shadow trail animates the sidewalk. I follow it without knowing where it sets out again. Once the light was simple as a syllable. Today a comet crosses my breath. Sun doesn't only fall with sparks but prevaricates my tongue. And when evening imposes its dark the pupils still keep warm light. That is where I find you.

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It must have been the 3rd or 4th question after we ordered drinks. He asked why I wore sunglasses on my head even in the middle of winter. This was our 4th or 5th date and the only repeating motif besides the blushing shared silence. I brushed his knuckle, drew the church my grandpa and I kneeled in every summer day, how the sun chameleoned through stained glass, the old man's pressed eyes twenty women chanting god down into country soil with their wails, and so yes my plastic shades a smaller cathedral my hair a softer sacrament.

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