leaking

the world leaks out of the little king’s eyes.  oh girl, you must be mad, what happened to the sweet love you and me had? bleeding ink from her fingertips*, the little king is prone to sensitivity; flinging her arms around wildly, hoping to collide with a metaphor for what  is happening;  sunlight covered by a tattered curtain of clouds, tied loosely around her waist.  he absentmindedly plays with the fringe, braiding it between his fingers and making her fall in love with his hands.  he kisses her wrist, but its cold.  wailing into the wind because his world is falling apart and she can only watch.  he whispers in the dead of night, and his fingers wander south.  i could never go on without you. yes, you could and you will.  the little king is a mirage.  she is words and feathers whose edges fade when you unfocus your eyes.  the little king’s heart beats without meter.  the little king’s family comes only in her dreams.  the little king’s love is born and cradled in the depth of her mind.   the little king occasionally doubts her own existance.  a spirit of daring  is on the tip of her tongue, but she forgets how it tastes as soon as a challenge looks her in the eye.  death.   its hovers around her in a cloud, dreams and weird reality, and sickness.  a week of everything being surreal.  the little king has stopped believing she can predict the future.  it used to be so accurate.  she used to read people, the way she used to read books.  she used to remember things so precisely.  the little king discovers horrible things every day.  (watching CNN news at the gym last night, i saw a ticker headline about a gay man who was beaten to death in the midwest.  after he was dead, his murderer stuffed his maimed body into a suitcase and left it in a dumpster)  the little king does not know much about death but now that it haunts her dreams and her reality, she wonders if it is a sign? she believes in signs more than ever these days.  lift up your reciever, i’ll make you a believer….

*borrowed this metaphor from [11:11]s diary