The Hole in My Head

[raoin]

Fiona Apple's "Never is a Promise" and "Slow Like Honey" and John Doe's "The Golden State"

The Hole in My Head

There are voices calling you
- the washing stumble of rain against the windows.
Just another herald.
Just another moment prolonged – over-extended.

Look to the too-brief too gentle kisses
You drop them subtly into my pond, they barely ripple the surface
They raise my water level and I lie there still and unrumpled, unknowing.
Look to the familiarity of small phrases,
I’m going, I’m going
Temperate calls - the clock chiming the hours - regular and unregarded.
But would you hear me.
Would you see me.

I am losing you in the toothpaste, the grocery lists, the mopping of the floor.
I am losing me among the detergent and the laundry and the recycling.

I do not want our life to be the played out rehashing of chicken leftovers;
The repeated betrayal of day-old steamed vegetables and unimaginative gravies.

Be my cliché.
I am yet still aware of what might be.

Look to the scent of rotting leaves and recent rain,
that chill in the air should mean autumn
but your hands were always warm and sure.
Don’t let them go cold with doubt.
Don’t let routine box you away from me -
we are not Christmas ornaments, pretty paper and wrappings taken out once a year.

My everyday jolt of lightening, stark against the stars of my life and dreams,
I would burn you deep into my retinas, scratch you daily into my skin.
Remind me.

Worn ragged and faint,
beneath deadlines and bills,
amid meeting ends, we have courted finality and let it end us
and the selfishness of separate worries is merely the consequence.

Your blood, my blood.
Your name, my name.
Count, breathe, and jump with me
that fire, this broom.
Let us be always each instant
Wholly ourselves together.
Be with me
full and flowing.