i'm hoping for a big explosive ending the next time around. no slow building up of resentment and anger but the sound of breaking glass and screaming in hushed voices, so as not to wake the babies. i'm rooting for heart pounding music on car rides over the hill, like the midnight we saw a gallon of blood from a deer, just hit. and me, head between my legs and you not caring that i'm crying and with goosebumps, both of us wondering what the hell the other is thinking. let this die with passion and not a sputtering of never having loved each other the way we intended to. don't let me carry on as the over-explainer, the under-asker, the don't worry honey i need nothing at all-er. don't let me drive you away with clinginess or the need for reassurances and don't let me be the one that bores you with my seeming lack of interest in what you're doing when you're not around. let me find the balance between cliches, the first line from the novella i never quite finished. i cannot bear the surprise of loving completely again and being caught off guard.
Come all ye lost / Dive into moss / And hope that my sanity covers the cost / To remove the stain of my love / In paper mache
Come all ye reborn / Blow off my horn / I'm driving real hard / This is love, this is porn / God will forgive me / But I, I whip myself with scorn, scorn -damien rice