i hate that they're only memories.

-

just before, i was walking down the road just outside my mothers house

i could see my shadow

she's gorgeous

silouette of my jeans, funky t shirt, crazy hair

standing alone

by herself

i remember that day

when you were there in all your pin striped pants and tailored shirt splendour

we both had hemp shoulder bags

me, plain and simple jeans and a tshirt

taking photos and short videos of the things and people surrounding us

you had your first ever jam donut but you didn't really like it

you ate the whole thing though

you took a photograph of our shadows

standing side by side arms around eachother

i said it's the most beautiful thing i've ever been a part of

and it's still true.

i love the way people looked at us that day

looked at us and smiled

maybe remembering their own first love

(i'm all for believing)

you took me out to dinner that night

i met your mother and she looked at me disapprovingly

but with hope in her eyes

i met your little rat ani

saw the self inflicted wounds she had

i love the way you had to stop and hold me when we left your parents house

it's hard for you

to see her

it hurts you everytime

you took me there alot.

i love the way you'd ask to hold my hand

as though i might object, might not want you to

i love the way that when we were sitting eating dinner you stopped

and held my hand and nearly cried

i asked what was wrong, you looked so sad

'this has been here for your whole forever, this skin, your hair, your eyes..they've been in existence for years and i haven't known about it. i've only been here for a few short weeks'

i cupped your face in my hand and kissed you

and nearly cried myself

we asked eachother countless times

what are you feeling right now

what are you thinking

-

dream brother.

-

you dropped me home at 5 in the morning.

i couldn't sleep and it took me 2 hours just to smoke one pipe

because i was already so high

-

here on my mothers computer

i found this conversation we had on christmas eve

it was so beautiful

we talk about how all these little interactions with children had been happening

reading over it

we were childlike

so full of innocence

pure, wide eyed fascination

maybe thats why little girls and boys were finding us so intriguing

they saw it.

we were full of love, so much so that we couldn't stop reminding eachother

couldn't stop telling one another how beautiful we were.

Self preservation feels more beautiful than winter - (blood can be pretty like a delicate man) says:

(jess wants to bury her head in a pit of steaming tar right now..)

mark says:

then i will be there to drag your burnt skull out of the tar, place your hand in the trigger of a gun, help you pull the trigger, so that you died of your own hand, of a shotgun wound, then bury your body and mourn your passing everyday after...

Self preservation feels more beautiful than winter - (blood can be pretty like a delicate man) says:

this probably sounds strange...thats the most beautiful thing anyones ever said to me

mark says:

than it achieved its purpose....

-

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