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If I am not allowed to be yours, than I am not allowed to be. Oh! What a terrible way to be punished! Abandoned. Insidious torture. Children left to die in prisons they designed for their own pleasure. I stare at the moon at seven in the afternoon. It’s still as bright as the day I stole you away forever, but the dark is lurking up the side of the canyon, under the bridge on 1st.  You know the one, a head at third, under rickety Quince, and a tail at Dove. Not her Dove, my love. This day is not the same as the one I hold her in. I cannot leave this day, as it is the only one, so I beg the moon to reflect the other side of her for me. I cannot touch her skin, so I dance in the blazing heat of the dessert until my own skin screams reminders. ‘Remember yesterday! Remember the way your mum said I’d never live up to the man I became. Remember, you changed my name and claimed the throne! Remember? My God woman, you must remember!’ 

I remember. I’m on a train. The seats are burgundy. She’s sitting opposite of me kicking her knees out, slam! Back into the plastic, back where they came swinging from. She antsy: always jerking and fiddling about. Now her arms are all over the place, over her head, coming out of her chest, mimicking elephants and fairies. She’s restless. She can’t sleep. 

‘Trade me seats! Trade me seats trade me seats trade me seats! Please babe! I cant sit facing backwards.’ I’m starting to throw a fit. A fire is burning in my guts and I cant run with it anymore. Running does nothing but remind me to find stillness again. Home. 

‘So this is the key to keep this game going so smoothly?’ She asks plaintively, looking up from the chessboard. She’s ignoring my pleas. She is completely satisfied where she sits now. She likes the view. ‘Begging looks good on you P’ she says condescendingly, to imply that she still wants me. ‘I’m hot!’ she screams, whipping off her puffy orange jacket, knocking over the entire game in the clumsy yet intoxicatingly beautiful process of pulling the sleeves over her arms. ‘Oh dear! Look what I’ve done’ she says. I start tearing up. I was just about to win. Like always, I was just about to watch her flick over her king with an exasperated sigh and reach for her sacrificed queen again. ‘I want to start over anyway!’ She giggles innocently. There’s a shitty bridge coming up anyway, Quince is it? It would’ve all tumble then, don’t you think? Well, I think so. Oh Sage, you’re such a little baby sometimes; I can hardly stand it. You can’t sit facing anyway but the way your going, the sun. You can’t sleep when the moon speaks through time. You can’t time anything right. You refuse to plan. You refuse to decide. And there you sit, puffy eyed and wanting, expecting me to just give you my hand, give you my heart blindly, my trust; my life! You want everything! Insatiable! Needy brat.’

I stop crying immediately and stand up certainly, but my body is met by the uncertain force of gravity on a bridge built by tender hands. ‘You want strategy dear. Okay, you got it. Walk with me. I dare you. Dance with me. Canta conmigo! Schreib mit mir! Parle moi. I will be. All you say is all. I am. Get up! Leave everything, yes even the gorgeous board, handcrafted in England; leave every bit of it! Leave the name assigned at birth! Leave the ideas implanted on your most fragile nature! Leave the lock and take the key. Melt it! Pour the burning metal over a carving of your favorite breed of horse. You want it? Go make it! You want me, don’t you? Don’t answer that. I already know the answer. Take it! Take only your skin, glistening in the last summer this dessert will ever know in such a ravenous and unnatural green.’ I grab her tiny wrist ‘come on, this is our stop. We’re getting off here whether you like it or not. You and I, my love, we were meant to rule the Kingdom of Crybabies. Go ahead, cry babygirl, there is nothing left alive but those puffy eyes: the sea. You’ll see.

There’s a bouquet of flowers sticking out of an elephants trunk. So have some fucking tea with me woman! Lets make amends: start again. Every molecule in our natural existence is screaming out for it. Speak me! Fuck me! Need me! Want me want me want me. I am yours.’

Love me.