Ian 26.5

Date/Time: 11.19.2015, 12:00 PM

 

 

Recipient: Ian

 

Sender: Annik

 

Purpose: Explanation of Black and  the influence thereof.

 

Expected Result:

-Apology

-Realization

-Sexual arousal

-Invitation

 

 

Salutation

 

Matthew,

 

 

Abstract (Annik)

 

A barren feeling in my heart caused by invisible heat or the fires of your approach.  Silent in their nature by the virtue of the silence you engender, precipitating your return with a blank and scorched section of the earth of me, not to reap a new growth, coax tender and young greens from a place of slick and hard abandonment, but stand wary in a field of some peril.  Times I have before, in the real or imagined cradles you settle like ash to fuck me in. 

 

Word borrowed from Scandinavian folklore of particular interest to me:

Immolation

 

Body (shades of Violet approaching Lividity)

 

I race over the highway blacktop, the night air cold around me in the coming fall, and I listen to music that means nothing to me anymore.  Nothing means anything to me anymore.  The air is dry because I am driving through the terrains of nightmares of my brother, and that doesn't mean anything to me anymore.  I am trying to drive fast enough to outrun all the words and ways of life I shoved like a messy and unwanted dick into your sister.  I am trying to drive fast enough to outrun your fucking ghost again, but I can see the trees ahead, over the river, and I know I'm going to run out of road. 

 

The land wets the way my pussy does,  and it does, because home feels good to me and for once I feel good to myself, but too fast, too hard, too soon, I skid over the asphalt and the road under me...

 

The road under me...

 

Stops being road at all.

 

The pressing hard of the brake pedal is an act of adrenal terror, retrospective and thick and clumsy as a camel ride. 

 

Put.

 

Your uh.

 

Foot down.

 

And the road ran out, and there I was, terrified in the char of something I'd done. 

 

Right out from under me, the feeling of myself in myself and home to be alive and want or wanted, unrolling fast and...

 

Well, Clyde would've said something like, "Where'd you get yourself to, Fox?"

 

A smoke-heavy and blacksooted dining room, where I once lived as a child, where I stood in trouble because I don't know, maybe I'd started the fucking thing.  My legs burned...

 

Matthew?

 

My legs, they got burned.  I don't know why I had to come here, to this place, where the TV blared at me all the time and quiet in the honeyed heat with my dolls I told them, in the corner between the bed and the dresser:

 

Shh. 

 

Because maybe fire can hear you. 

 

I got my legs burned, spattered like the speckles of an egg, smoothed to cool cream-scented slightly detergented gauze wrapped white and soft, but I couldn't sleep.  I have all these freckles, and the road just...

 

Realignment of Purpose (Vincent)

 

The positioning of the universe placed me in a situation to feel responsible for the loss of virginity of a girl, it's utter loss, it's annihilation, it's ill-treated bruising from the inside of the places she was softest.  I drove her up to the top of the city and didn't understand her tears meant stop.

 

Then it happened again.

 

I don't really want to do this anymore.

 

Realization (Maroon)

 

I must've known you were coming home. 

 

It's quiet here, in the wake of any destruction.

 

Considerations (Shades of Red)

 

What's Black in me, is burned, created by fire, and smeared with the irreversible remnants of it.  In the tower of the church, which no longer holds a bell, there is a scorched place where she hides her melted objects.  She was once a bird, to escape the burning of me.  You asked, a crow, and I said, sometimes, but I struggle with some symbolism, of why it's like this inside me. 

 

Burning Eden down was only ever about...

 

Was only ever about...

 

Was only ever about...

 

How dark a thing...

 

No, I don't know.  Leave me alone, please.

 

Force of Will (Vincent)

 

How dark a thing like me...

 

Would need to get...

 

To start over.

 

Conclusion (Annik)

 

I belong to you in blankets of your heavy thoughts, wrapped into the place we lay.  The sweet sleep of the wicked, interlacing with you beneath me, reversed rain dripping into me.  Did you know we're in love?  Did you know we're in love?  Did you know we're lovers?  I must've left a mark somewhere, stripped you and left some mark, some warrior's mark on your proud cheek, in the ash of what was left of you, kissed you hard enough to bruise and said, "Come back to me."

 

Closing

 

Love,

Annik