The Naked Lightbulb



Through the forests we run and down the streets that burn like our insides after too much whisky we glide as if we’re skating on ice. Are we trying to escape our past? Are we doing our best to flee from the dirty truths that haunt our nights? Or is it that we’re chasing a state of mind that always seems to be around the corner? Who can say, maybe it’s a pinch of all three, but as we run hand in hand past the boarded up shops and through parks and alleys that seem to contain the echoes of everything we have ever experienced, there’s no fear, only a yearning to transform into something those we once knew never believed in. When rain turns into snow and morning becomes night, we take no notice because this journey of ours goes beyond all that has been tasted for we seek what has yet to be glimpsed. When she undresses and stands there in the dark with her eyes shining like those of a cat, I finish my cigarette and move towards her. Part of me hates her because of her beauty and part of me wants to hold her because only within her arms do I ever feel safe. When I place my hands on her hips and kiss her lips, I let it be known that I feel so weak- that I don’t think I can carry on much longer because what I see of the world fills me with fear, but all she has to do is smile. And that smile, how it eases my pain. When she’s not around I drink too much and let the demons in, but whenever she comes calling my feet don’t touch the ground. She is both sun and moon. She is a door to a river I haven’t swam in since my childhood. Sometimes I’m cruel. I treat her unfairly, but only because I want to feel her wrath. And how it feels to be burned by that fire just as it feels to be soothed by her embrace, and whenever she comes undone I ease her pain in return, because that’s just how we are. As the city dies outside, she lays me down upon the bed and undresses my weary bones. Sometimes we make love, and sometimes all she does is hold me while I unravel. I should be a man, be tough, but I’m done faking it. If those around you can’t take the worst of you, they don’t deserve the best of you. This is my mantra. This is my word, and so it remains.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

A Journal for Damned Lovers on 

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