Table Scraps

07.03. 2025

Someone so profound to you, affection that shatters your own reflection 

Someone that makes me doubt my own sight, touch and feel of my existence

Making the act of "love" feel like a shotgun to the temple

There is no difference in this round, between the locked eyes of a hunter and a deer

Palpable silence between two beating hearts

One will love the other beyond death, and one will sacrifice themselves to rejoice 

Breaking themselves off from the living, from all that they know 

But, why run? 

Why push away from someone that has been waiting for you? 

That is the work of fate. All of the moment have led for this fatal meeting 

This deer for that man

My history with attraction comes in low whispers, stained papers and ruined houses

I both fear and thrive on the other

I see love as the hunt, with all the ferocity, teeth and sacrifice that comes with the chase 

Perhaps I never agreed with the slow, gentle caress of flesh on flesh

Out of all the impossible happening in this world...

Mercy rained down after the last door closed

That cold, refreshing mercy 

03.03

How small are you, really? When you take a moment to look up instead of forward, take part in the primitive action of feeling small in the face of those pinpoints of light, poking, tearing into our night sky. When the breath clouds into steam, then the steam comes from the campfires, then comes from your own body. Aligned are the planets, those galactic warriors that have observed every downfall and victory - those eyes that have witnessed the construction of our home. 

As the parasites tour my body, I too have become bacteria inside of the host. I too have become one of the many particles of rust that float and latch throughout the pipes of the machine. I have seen heaven and hell inside of cardboard boxes, dreams and the remains of past wars filter their way through the delivery trucks, washing up onto shore. Now, I can talk with man and shake hands. No longer am I secluded to my own world, no longer is the night sky empty. 

Fortune has granted me a man of kindness to be introduced into my life. I never have met a person so infatuated with the happiness of others, to be so generous as to purchase anything for his dear friends. Excited to share his hobbies, his world, and willing to travel to the four corners of the globe just to have the chance to exist with someone. 

This friendship makes me feel... certain. Grounded. A man with respect for his body and his mind, passion for community, for connection. Not just seeing someone but urging you to become yourself. This is especially impactful for someone with a body and mind that, growing up, is never seen as "enough", as "acceptable". Always needing repairs, each engine light a tattoo. 

Distance is the now, and distance is what I need. That is the sign to slow down, and not lose myself in a life that I, deep down, want to achieve. At the core of it - attraction is in part what you like to see in yourself. 

Now, I wait. Sniffle, cough, ache. Heal. 

If I am feeling loved now, it is guaranteed that somewhere in my future I am loved again. 

Daydreams on harp strings - I gently pluck them, and the song never ends.