A Gentleman made of Salt-Water, Mountains, Tattoos and Ship-Wrecks
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
messages that fall like snowflakes
frost on the car windshield, or ice, i don’t know. I'm unfamiliar living in south Florida with the terms, with cold- brisk winds, with what most probably view as usual winter. LL Bean flannel shirt, cafe racer motor cycle jacket, over doing it. how many more times will i get to wear this? to look heavily clothed. to feel warm and secure. false warmth, false security. I'm over doing it because that's what i do. it's that good or that bad and nothing in between.Yet, in between is where i live. the devil between us.
I'm making it out to be colder than it is, I'm making it hurt more than it does or should or ever would. she didn't hurt me has bad as i say. Ive almost forgotten. Almost.
its not really that cold out. but, what I'm feeling isn't fake. it never is, it never was. I want comfort. warm. do you remember what warm feels like?
the sky is clear. night. day. night. somewhere there is wood burning. it smells like mountains and pine trees. like my cabin in the woods. like the dream i have of a cabin in the woods. books and music piled floor to ceiling. a dog by a fire in twitch sleep. breathing. always forever breathing.
music with horns or piano, string bass. maybe cellos. music for the lost loves and pets and family. winters we spent silent. guitar drone the lyrics you can’t quite make out. this is vague. these are my words and my arms around you on a cold night. warm.