prometheus

"and by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. the worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt."
sylvia plath.

my body is defenseless against you, pale and plastered to the ordinary accidents that made us extraordinarily whole

actually our incompatibility stems from the way you ask me what i'm looking at and that (to you) my miradas are questions and not answers and that (to you) people are objects from which to garner appreciation and gratefulness rather than emotion

and because of all this i promise you a painting of my lungs at the moment when they exhale in your presence,
to highlight the way they are illuminated from the edges,

and for you to see how my lungs are a cage for my heart,
and how my distracted breathing gets in the way of an already-erratic heartbeat

in this way i will point to the painting and explain to you that even chinese-tibetan cross-continent trains could not decrease the space between our shoulder blades and chests. my tongue alights upon your collarbone, igniting flames from under your chin, and you writhe with discomfort as you whisper that i'm wearing you down, that you're giving in.but it doesn't matter, because i am still a puddle of water evaporating under your overbearing heat


i collect adjectives like fireflies in a jar. i hoard them in your absence because i know how much you hate both romanticism and the packrat trait, it reminds you of your mother whom you love so much and yet you live in sparing scarcity, a bed and nothing more (i haven't seen this but so you admit, and you love tossing your pants on the floor). you have so much . space . spanning around and in you and in and out of you, growing, pulsing with the life that you are scared to live, the love that you are scared to admit and i just want to shake you and say let go let go LET GO, fall! dammit! just fall! it won't be that bad on the way down, i promise, and once you've almost hit bottom it will be like you are hovering above your body, electric with understanding, shaking with awareness, cringing at how long you've waited to feel a pain this good, cakes of concrete lining your knees


feels like fire, doesn't it?
feels like fire, doesn't it? prometheus knelt down to the ground, this is how he recognized it when he brought it to us


he let go