Real

Something about vertebrae crunching underfoot
And it doesn't make sense
No it doesn't make sense
But it's so beautiful it hurts
Just sitting here
Listening to those words
Those words like projectile vomit into the small plastic trash can backstage during a show
You held my hair
I'll never forget again
But now I have to go
I'm too afraid to feel this much
Too exhausted by feeling so much from so little
All the time
All the time
Always
Every single fucking moment of time extending into forever and ever and nothing
Remember that the world could explode and I would feel the same
But more at ease
My reactions would make sense then
When the vertebrae crunching underfoot
And the rain inside the bus station
And the snarling, foaming dogs
And falling bridges
And desperate declarations of love
And the horror
And the blood
And the beauty
And the terrible, terrible loneliness
When these things become really real I can walk calmly through the streets as they crumble and burn
Secure in the knowledge that I fit in this world
That I got something right
That I make sense
Until then I live in fear of these things
They creep into my vision and are gone before I can turn to look them in the face
Don't leave
I need your eyes to see plainly
And in return I will give you all the desperate declarations of love in the world
And the rain inside the bus station
And the brilliant flowers blooming in the clouds
And the secret and mysterious meaning in the corner of her lips
We will never speak to her or see her again
But I will tell you her dreams
I will draw her soul on white tissue paper so that you can fold it up and keep it in your pocket
The only real soul in the world
If you stay
And look
And tell me that souls don't exist
That we can't know her dreams
And it doesn't rain inside
And the crunching vertebrae are no more than tiny twigs and seedpods dropped by the trees in the park
And the bridges and streets are still there
And the world has not exploded yet
And I am not as alone as I think I am