Saturday, January 17, 2009

I've dreamt of you often. Forgiveness and my lies, the quality of my forgiveness and your long longing lies. You and I, I came to my bed full of your memory and your declarations. I left London loved and returned unloved and in my absence, you and her. Have you heard the delicious news, says Jack, they love one another.

And what is there to forgive. You said you loved me and now you love another. And I want very little to do with you and you want very much to do with me.

Dreamt last night of the end of the world, which was a mudslide and while one or two of our friends were knocked over by the police cars and the ambulances, whilst they died on the pavements, She and I, we stopped the waters at our feet. She had wanted to drown us. And so we had taken deep breaths and we had thrown ourselves into the sea only to find that we could swim. Later, whilst in the attic, Alexandra said her goodbyes and her I loves yous and drank poison. I made her spit it out into my hand, like treacle and tar, and her legs were bruised and how she was cross with me. How she would prefer to cough and choke and drown inside. I would, she said, bury us up to our necks in stones, wouldn’t I, that's the kind of girl I am. Drawn out. We walked the streets and found our loved ones running from their empty houses and we caught them in our arms as they ran past.