This Is Water

call me lieutenant Dan.

did you forget scratching off your skin on
the floor of your parents’ shower, home
from a chilly vacation with a warm girl?
a text at three am: “I’ve peeled all my skin off
do you still love me? can you still love a mess of bloody
muscle, viscous trails, teeth, teeth, teeth?? things
on the outside that should not be? should be
packed away behind layers of flesh?”
a text the next morning: “wtf.”
quit droning.
she doesn’t love you.
she only held your hand that time you cried in
the hallways so that
you would shut up
she only kissed you, perched on your hips like
a pixie (long hair and mirage lips and clementine vodka)
only kissed you so that you would shut up
shut up shut up
shut up

about tiny girls with too-big eyes and too-red lips
who write badly about snowflakes
and boys with bad hands
trying to romanticize his dirt brown eyes and
skinny meanness and the
ingrained sadness of teenaged heterosexuality


remember riding bikes at night in northern california
kissing on various couches but
never alone. remember
our almost-summer
remember fluorescent lights and bad skin
economics class and crying in the bathroom
texts late at night: “don’t say that,
you’re beautiful
you’re beautiful you’re
you’re beautiful”

and don’t love girls who love boys who hate themselves
don’t love girls who won’t scoop up your
organs when they spill on summer driveways
queezy girls, uneasy girls
girls who have never read an anatomy book they
just stand there staring
at your kidneys on the ground,
your intestines your pancreas maybe

and even though she’s swollen with superiority
and sanity you still want to take
her little face in your hands but your fingers
are bloody
you’ve misplaced all your skin, sent it swimming down the drain and now even now, months later,
you can see her when you close your eyes
you can see her standing there
in the dark
your bloody fingers have left streaks down
her cheeks and
she is laughing and
she is going to kiss you even though she is sober
and you are only a simple viscous mass of tissue,
writhing in her driveway

—California (via porn4smartgirls)

(via tad-lincoln)

The movie has an incredible life from generation to generation. People have told me they’ve named their kids Westley and Buttercup, that they were married dressed as Westley and Buttercup. I met a girl just a few weeks ago who has “As You Wish” tattooed on her neck.
Cary Elwes (Westley) The Princess Bride

(Source: lmnpnch)

I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling off a house. I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp and as a blimp operator loves to chase after it.
I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics, and as a dagger proof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair of binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled.
I will love you until every fire is extinguised and until every home is rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where we once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively.
I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and now matter how I am discovered after what happens to me as I am discovering this.

—Lemony Snicket (via idontleadpeopleon)

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