Wednesday, May 2, 2018

nematodes and planarians, babelfish and the like

i want to speak so seldom that my words have power. 

have you noticed how girls justify themselves endlessly, apologising and explaining and prefacing and clarifying and rephrasing? we are too unsure with our empty endless words which have no inherent meaning anymore, except maybe that instinctual desire to not offend. as if it could mean the ends of the earth, to offend, to make a stand. a soundless, buzzing grammar that wears the ears and separates us regardless of time and space. 



so when we are sitting outside and chain-smoking in the dark and we are very drunk indeed and D says something real, finally, A cannot hear it for all the syntactical clutter. i hold my words and speak in low tones and act the interpreter because i know both their minds. because i am quiet and i watch and i listen and i do not share my secrets and A who knows i have them does not ask. because when i am drunk i retain full presence of mind, because of how much i could stand to lose.


and if i do not tell my secrets then, now and then i get a night like this, where i remember that issues are just parasites and there is a me that exists outside of them. who eats beans because they are good, who trusts her instincts that sometimes she can see into people better than they can, who watches and listens and imbibes others' strengths and weaknesses. who has the power to speak deliberately and intentfully. 


who, as phoenix, will grow again from her own charred remains. i do not know who burnt me or i know too well but what they don't know is how nutritious is that ash. i will wait and watch and grow and i will speak less than i read and someday i will not be infested with parasites. someday i will fly forth and i will not be a ghost.

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