Who are we and where do we go?

Someplace ethereal my man.

Why can’t you just say surprise me like normal people?

Oh love, by now you should have somehow realised ain’t nothing normal about this.

Bemused he leaned in and asked how?

Well, fool, I’m blissful and romantic but that’s rare.

On most days I’m bizarre and incomprehensible.

On a good week, I could be like the blood flow in the pulmonic valve, into the pulmonary artery.

Conversations. Bloody. Just like we love them.

But most days I simply am ribald 😉

Do you know how you look?  You ridiculous pretentious romantic?

You’re the portrait of the aftermath of a storm.

Picking up pieces and brown mud.

You’re almost like a bottleneck.

At the start there’s a smile towards the escape there’s a sly smile with a plan.

Now hold on love. Out of those 10 times, I’m sure we went home once feeling like a billion bucks.

I know it’s all ravaged now I know it’s all broken wooden pieces but I assure you petting our dog and rubbing it while I bring some food for the lil guy will exceed that every day.

Now that the hamartias are identified I believe we can sit down and start drawing again.

Yeah sure in a while my love what’s the rush? For now, just run your hands through my hair and describe this afternoon sky for me. I promise instead of the sugar rush we shall have our whiskey crush.

I mean I have heard the morning and the evening poems of yours and believe me, baby, I yearn for them more and more but for now, quit picking the dry skin and run your hand over the scar your mother gave you last week. You can use your words too just be soft and funny. 

Because you see, the explanation is trade with mediocrity. We translate and a Japanese man cries drenched with rice vodka: Art is lost! So instead I’ll focus on that creepy smile of yours.

You see your smile is like a metaphor and believe me a metaphor can be a simile. Derogatory? No no, Remember the Guy Fawkes and Portman dance? Men will kill for that I’m telling you.

You’ll just be hurt again fool. That’s okay. That’s the point.

Maybe, maybe not. It’s a double-edged street.

And I’m halfway there already.

Quit whining now. Hold my hand and enjoy the sun while it lasts.


By: Fox Mulder