nine

wow.
neuf like pont neuf (meaning new but i guess in this case
new and nine mean the same thing).

it's so supremeupliftingpainfulicyignorantluckydiamond
imagining madameandmonseiurthirion
and their twelveyearolddaughter and sixteenyearoldson away at boarding school
in their 110m2 apartment on rue de rennes.

i can't describe it. what i don't need to pack,
what will be deep inside myself, to be dug out only with time,
is anxietyexcitementnervousnessexistencenumbness.
i'll be alone, left to my own thoughts and silence,
because i'm too hard to chisel into unless you are a certain kind,
so people will just get bored after a while.
it's totally inevitable it's me it's unfortunate life.

my breathless numbness has gushed back into me,
it's horrible timing but it's truly inescapable it's myself it's wintry alless.
every hour feels strange, like it doesn't belong here,
and although some are rising gold,
some are sinking smoke which i choke on.

i miss him. i haven't seen him for magneticinfinitemagentainfrared days.
his throbbingsulkybrown eyes are that which i live on.
they're my whitebrightnight(ly) oxygen
and their magical worlds kill me beautifully.

god. new bridge. pont neuf.
(only neuf). nine days (stiffening night,
neon light and lurching heels)
to go, i'm exploding with hypochondria, hypothermia, idiosyncrasy.
i want to look wetlipstickingly glamourous,
clicking down the champs-elysées open my eyes, baby
open the intinery, classic normality (i want to be you).
the pavement is gulping all the reeling shudders of rain.

i'll mortally, immortally dive off the pont neuf.
written: Tuesday 7th September 2004, 8:50pm.