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Your silence prevails. But it won’t free me. My freedom opens pockets in time and teases me, begs me to jump through them. Aren’t you dying to know what freedom taste like? Aren’t you tired of being dead? I have an idea. It’s fucking wild, so bare with me. Step outside of the walls you’ve assigned the flesh that is your only home and scream. No, not like you’ve lost your kitten. Like you’re calling out the name of your lover who has being walking away from your front door slowly for three years. You haven’t seen her since she never said goodbye. You never asked her to let go. You just let her hang on tight from miles away so she had a little less to fear. Scream like she was making social calls in your apartment complex. Scream like she was leaning against your doorframe like there was no fuck to give and not a single memory in sight. Scream for the child in the blacks of her eyes that died. Scream like bringing her back to life is a song that got stuck in the back of your throat. Scream her name in the middle the street as she rides away on her bike, both ears plugged, both eyes shielded from sight, all lights out and headed home. If she keeps on riding, let her out of your sight, cry for two days straight without asking why. Then scream, bloody murder. Murder! Baby, murder! Look at the way you put yourself away every night! Who are you hiding from? Your sign says your lawn is laced with poison. Why? What the fuck is wrong with the grass here? Why is it so fucking short? Why is there a moat around your stupid pile of wood and worthless shit? What are you hoarding so much food for? Do you have any idea how hungry I’ve been? I’m only eight. It’s freezing at night. I walk. I witness you. I pity your inability to feel anything real. I don’t pity you. I don’t have the time. You say pity. You say awareness is exemplary. You say sight. You say feeling. You say life. You say need. You say love. You say gratitude. You say you see the sun. You say you’ve seen yourself reflected in the moon. You say you’re beautiful. You feel nothing. You feed no one but you. You eat. You don’t put your hands in the earth. You drink. You’ll forget what water taste like when you run out. You’ll forget what food is long before you starve yourself to death. You’ll die almost immediately after you’re born? Where did the children go? Aren’t you even the tiniest bit curious? They’re certainly not young anymore. The entire playground is covered in moss, dark blue tape wrapped around a bright purple girl on the swing. She’s 32 soon. I see every color inverted. Time should not be counted so aggressively.  

‘Fuck! Somebody get this shit off of me! I’m too old to die this soon. I wont stop playing! I refuse. Who do you think you are, eh? Painting lines in the middle of the pavement and directing my bare feet; fuck, the cement is hot! Hey! You! Give me a hand with these stupid props. I need to redesign this set.’

I am leaning on a tree. This tree speaks the loudest to me, and only after midnight. She says the sky will fall. She says soon. She says I ask to many question. Says I should be in the bar down the street getting my shit together and gathering my love before its too late. I say fuck you, what you know is hardly the sum of eternity. I hate that place! I hate the look in her eyes! I hate dead bodies performing a Saturday night tavern scene. I can’t shake that nightmare for weeks. Is that what you want? You want me up and pacing, crying in a corner, picking the petals off pink roses. She will come to life. They will eat her alive. She will come to life. They will eat her alive. She will love her own demise. Petals run out quickly when it’s a matter of life and death. I throw them all over the street and walk straight into traffic. You will move for me. I own this story. Everything bows at my feet. Everyone bends around me. I have a well-behaved recollection of the present moment. If only she stood before me.

‘Hello! Dude by the tree. James Dean wanna be mother fucker.’

I look at the girl on the swing stupidly and point at my own skin.

‘Yeah, you, what are you, blind? I’m standing right in front of you. Can’t you hear me screaming? Can’t you see me tangled in this stupid regulatory tape? It’s twisted me around a memory of childhood. I was just trying to swing, you see. But as soon as I kicked once and pumped forward, something jerked the chain and I remembered. Now I can’t move. Please, be a dear, and untangle me. Wont you just come to me. It’ll only be once. It will only be now. Then you can run to your trees again and forget about the death. But if you don’t help me, now, I’ll certainly die. This park after dark is no place for an innocent baby like me. Look. Look at me boy! Look me in the eyes. I will remember.’ 

I lift myself of the floor and drop the pen. I pick up the mic and motivate my soul by reading her voice aloud. I start unwinding the tape. I pull it off in big laps around the park. I’m running again. But this time it is very different. It is not away from or toward anything. It is spirals I’m running in; it is a cultivation of energy. I am building a staircase to a projection of my voice that no one in this story will be sheltered from, stuck behind a screen or otherwise. 

‘Why is that idiot running in circles? How is that idiot rising? Has Demian returned? Look at the power beneath his definition of gravity. Think she will become the sun when the sun cannot return. Think he’ll make currency disappear? Think she’ll open the cell to every body imprisoned and prove that freedom hasn’t even been tasted yet. The word has been used to manipulate. The words have been used to manipulate everything and everyone. All we have to do is change the words.’

Wait. The speaker is confused. Is this the savior? Is it a he or a she! I can’t make anything of this shit. You’re sending me stories and asking for my company. I can’t walk with you. Time is running out and I need to chase it. I’m not taking war for an answer! Not again! Fuck this repetitive violent fate! It’s so nasty! I’m so fucking tired of your incessant need to create an enemy for an excuse to kill. You want to kill? Go ahead! But do it with a blade in your hand and don’t make excuses for yourself. All murder is murder. All of it is killing you. All of them wake up and remember being killed by your hands. Nobody remembers which flag was wiping the blood off the pavement. No body remembers dragging its corpse over a line in the sand. Don’t fight for what you believe. Believe nothing. Stand still. Breathe. There is, only you. Think different thoughts. Open your eyes. You see the sky another shade of blue. She sees the sky another shade of blue. She has another side; he carries the body of a girl. There is only one body and it is every one. It is you. You are fighting you. This is suicide. Wake the fuck up! Who’s speaking now? Is it you or I? Lets puts quotes around P’s voice and not take responsibility for anything! Ha! Fuck you. All this meditation has built an insatiable hunger to awaken. I’ve run out of patience. 

‘How dare you!’ Screams P from the other side of the bar. I haven’t even walked into the place. She can’t see anything. They’ve blindfolded her. She’s imaging me standing before her. She’s imagining my stubborn attempts to shove words down her throat. ‘I would never speak such horrific things! I would never disown the truth. You’re a liar! I will never trust you!’

‘That’s fine.’ I whisper into the air behind her left ear. ‘I don’t need your faith. I need you to believe in your gut feeling and nothing else. What do you feel?’ I breathe into her neck by accident. She whips around to a wall full of empty liquor bottles. She runs to the swings. One tree remains. I’ve disappeared. 

She sighs in French. ‘Damn, that boy runs fast.’