Want

Originally published on Hijacked Amygdala.

“What do you want?”

I want to chew on your bones

to go back and stop her from going to that house in Brixton

you to bump into me in Mexico

to read all of the books

to be adored

to be ignored

to un-sleep with 95% of the men I’ve slept with

to give you a philosopher in exchange for a photographer

to discover what it feels like to not be in constant pain

everyone to just fuck the fuck off

you to tell me that the collection of dead wasps in my hands look “good enough to eat”

to dance on the train tracks with you like we used to, in the dead of night, drinking a bottle of Veuve through a straw, wearing novelty sunglasses and fur coats, shouting the lyrics to Losing My Religion and running away from track engineers and transport police

to go to the aquarium and count how many of the stingrays are happier than me, with their fucking smug little faces and all their smiley pals

to ask you what happened

to be your sorry-ever-after

to stop becoming emotionally invested in things that have nothing to do with me

to change your mind

to be formally introduced to the monsters that live under my bed and shake hands with the devil who pitched a tent on my shoulder

to kiss your knuckles before they find my face

to kiss your knuckles after they’ve found my face

to never speak another word

to go back to that restaurant in Alicante where all the food was on little sticks and at the end you take your sticks to the counter and pay according to how many sticks you have and the manager didn’t know that I had hidden six sticks hidden in my pocket so I’d like to pay for the six sticks of food that I didn’t pay for at the time

to stop faking it

to say that all I want is world peace and the end of global poverty because that’s what everyone is meant to say but I’m not everyone, I’m a terrible human being, and even if the world became a rich, plentiful, beautiful utopia we would still find things to argue about and people would die of greed and jealousy, and we’d probably still be fucking miserable because too much is never enough, it’s always more, more, more

to check if our initials are still on that tree

to hear you tell me that I’m electric

to hide under the surface of the sea, so that you know where I am but can never find me

to stop loving myself “less than the potential of one more night going mental”

to eat the belladonna first and trust that you will eat some too

to see myself through your eyes

to pinpoint the exact moment that everyone got so fucking boring

to stop being so afraid of living

to stop being so afraid of dying

to stop being so afraid

to just… stop.”

“I meant what do you want to drink? Tea or coffee?”

Featured image source here.

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2 thoughts on “Want

  1. “to say that all I want is world peace and the end of global poverty because that’s what everyone is meant to say but I’m not everyone, I’m a terrible human being, and even if the world became a rich, plentiful, beautiful utopia we would still find things to argue about and people would die of greed and jealousy, and we’d probably still be fucking miserable because too much is never enough, it’s always more, more, more”
    Yes..

  2. Even if you were not you, even if you didn’t breathe, even if your words came rising out of volcanoes. I would still be transfixed. I would stand at the mouth of the volcano and let it cover me. Your words are that achingly beautiful, they bruise us in ways we want to be bruised.

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