blackbird

[who are you close to? what draws you towards them?]

the revolving souls that make up my world are few in number, but i would fain die for each of them without hesitation. if the time comes, as perhaps it will (or has), that they should stand around me and beg for my hand, i have no doubt that i would lose my reason at being drawn to such people simultaneously. heaven help me that it will never be so...

to the north lies the warmest, most sincere, and flawed creature i have ever loved, and the most chaste friendship to exist for me. her broken, broken heart is what bound me to her, and also what will keep us forever apart.

to the south waits, as she will always wait, with effulgent eyes and shadow, my greatest paramour. dark as her arrogance and morality, and the perfect shape of my desire, she is all i could want, if only we could be more beautiful together than we are in conflict.

to the west is the mistress of tempests, of my thought, at whose hands i found my greatest strength and most pitiful weakness. there are not enough words in this language, or any other, to express the sorrow i feel at what has plagued us or the depth of my affection for this creature.

to the east is my guilt - the buried secret of my shame and the last bastion of redemption. i would give everything for her to be only the latter. she is the reflection of my mind in the most glorious vessel, and whatever we may become, i am certain that we shall never know anything but the most tender love for each other.





[tell me about your monster.]

it wears my skin, leers at me from beyond the looking-glass, and grows closer every day.

...if you could use your power for good...

                                                        ...would you?

I shudder to think on't myself.





[are you ashamed of what you have done with your life, or are you proud with what you have built? why?]

i can only be proud for who and what i am, for it is the opus of years, tragedy, and love. this body is as i have sculpted it, the marks of virtue and vice (in unequal proportion, at times) etched into my flesh as certainly as by a scalpel. my footsteps brought me to this door, and only mine. i can think of no greater achievement than to be here, now, and be aware, for better or worse.

i am, as you are, Beautiful, and shame holds no place in that kingdom.

(...but guilt plays in wonderfully, at times.)





[what are your morals?]

all of the above.

i used to believe in the objectivity of morality - that there was a fundamental Truth to the universe and it could be violated, but not in broad terms. thus, to kill is not prima facia wrong, but sometimes good, sometimes necessary, and sometimes unspeakably awful.

i don't know, anymore...

in practice, my morality is convoluted and frequently at odds with itself. i loathe the thought of money as wealth, and have never been eager to steal for gain, but i am drawn to the form of coin money, for it speaks to me of treasure, and i collect it fiercely. i have similarly been drawn to absurd trinkets and items, to the point of theft, but never once have i been tempted by the great works of man.

i believe in fidelity as purity of intent and emotion, and no longer of bodies; i believe in the honor of hard work, and the pleasure of sloth; i believe utterly in the idea of selflessness, but have drawn a line for my own sanity at more than one time.

i suppose what i mean to say is that i am only human, these days.

...and that's probably wrong.





[do you ever realize how insignificant our planet is?]

on nights where the moon is full, shining brightly through the dry skies of my homeland, i can momentarily understand the size and scope of our world, before the terror and hopelessness crushes me back into ignorance.





[tell me what a newborn child's first thoughts are.]

"oh, shit, not again."



(but not really.)





[in 25 words, tell me what real comfort is.]

sleeping after an exhausting day, in a bed with many blankets to protect you from the chill air, on the eve before some cheerful day.





[what were you doing the night it turned 2009?]

i was at perhaps the greatest of our great parties, in a sea of people, roaring drunk on half a bottle of grey goose vodka. i slipped outside to clear my head, and a pretty girl walked into me. we stared at the stars gleaming coldly over us, and i showed her the constellations. we sat leaning against the garage, and she impulsively kissed my cheek.

later, as everybody fell swiftly into sleep, i was alone in my room. i heard a noise at the door, so soft i could have imagined it - a scratch. i knew at once its author, and in this tiny sound i felt the entirety of a love pass over me; in this simple appeal i felt all the sensuality of an embrace surround me. And of course, you may guess, this feeling was the climax in and of itself, for even after i brought her in, it never went further than an aching Good Night.

Sometimes I wonder if all great romances take place in the mind.