I took your car the other day after the fight we had because I couldn't help it especially after you slammed your bedroom's door shut and your keys just lay there on the coffee table - (I obviously had no other choice but to make use of your vehicle in favour of my everlasting dissatisfaction) - so you can talk about my recklessness and lack of self-control as much as you want while we both know that I ran out of Ritalin a few weeks ago and if I thought I could take a piss all over our china, I wouldn't bother thinking of thinking about thinking about it. I'm going up viridian hills and round mellow mountains, into the embrace of ruby oak valleys and orange orchards, through rose water rivers and pink waterfalls and furry clouds, looking for something I can't yet name that you put in my chest and casually let it detonate against my walls – and it doesn't get easier because the word is radioactive and constantly disintegrating, seeking a more stable arrangement to fit more properly in my gut and its numerous narrow gaps (while the coil springs of my chest manically ache in full torsion). I box my heart and put it back-seat where it belongs and leave our town and everyone behind because we – in my mind – just thought it would be a good idea on a Tuesday at 09:30 to put me off my regular schedule of having coffee breaks with fascist bourgeois pigs in the kitchen because there's nowhere else in the office where I could smoke and watch the news and have a coffee and croissant altogether while on a seat but in there after I just got fired for the day for emphasising on the importance of re-establishing the principles of communism in contemporary society to save humanity as it hangs from Wall Street's largest building while capitalism and fascism continue to metastasise to the point where my (now former) boss hurls a coffee I made down a drill and pushes a feeding-on-human-flesh-slit-your-wrists Starbucks cup into my grasp. Could I use bliss or relish? I go beyond a thousand miles per hour and wonder if there could be a drug complex of the Caribbean deep blue sea and the Swedish crisp, fresh air. What is a ninth cloud delirium and earth simultaneously? I need the word to be heaven's only connection with our fleeting world. The day I met you you'd literally saved my life from an environmentally wrecked world – cloudy head, cherry lips, honey bones, cartoon lives, the very same cartoon life of mine lying in your hands - the universe dimmed into silence and low-light so my eyes could drink up just in the sight of you, I was deaf, daft and blind, but I knew life without you could have been bluer than blue. Chasing each other's fingertips and toes in bed – each whisper laced with song and red; fondling with my soul and head. We drink in the crisp wind while we fly up hills. Holy water scatters through our veins while we do all the things Egon Schiele would have written about like "tasting rainbows" and "novelty" and "you and me" and "our togetherness in a dream." You're sleeping and dreaming, I'm lying in your arms as I fight breathing - fire grows from my skull and a noose littered with needles tightens around my neck because life has been good enough. You're warm enough and you don't shiver. You're fed and hunger doesn't gnaw you. You are loved and in love that even your yearning fails to wander in other fields. It's too good enough that life is excess and love is fatal and happiness is tragic because thinking is an agony and the world is the worst palliative care home in existence with only one thousand beds and billions of terminally-burdened people. A gust of fire and smoke erupts from under the asphalt, the ground breaking with lava hives and blowing us down a bottomless chasm. We tumble downhill rolling faster than death as we meld with the dirt of the rainforests where hearts and dreams hang lowly from trees like our lives. Then we're down on the coastline where hell welcomes us - the clouds thicken and the sky forfeits the moonlight and stars; the water arches in long raging bodies, battering the beach into oblivion, une terre moins terre à terre; the wind relentlessly whipping sinners expiating their iniquity while their lungs drown in the crest they swallow and their blood smudges the waves... the horror fades into mind striking light as your car hares off through the waves and crashes against the tide - we clasp each other with my heart between us trembling in a cartoon box when countless flechettes arrow our car into a million million pieces of a million million pieces... my body alloys with yours as it embosoms my silhouette - "we're interfacing!" - our insides coalesce into the sea, every crest and trough purging our irremediable souls from profanity... until we don't breathe.
