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                             Crash

                               
       
Post a few months into social networking        
strangers are likeable in reference to fucking        
 
I say this from personal experience       
   
   
We have decided to meet    
after a month of knowing each other    
in the virtual world    
cause the stepping stone itself        
was instant connection        
Since then we have built a castle of    
words dreams wants needs    
above it-a towering construction        
painstakingly recreated from        
fragments of leftovers        
wiped clean with spit    
and slow murmurs        
        
And now we are here        
       
Tendrils of smoke rise slowly        
as we sit across facing each other        
with our respective cigarettes  
[Marlboro and Gudang Garam]        
The air sizzles and pops with tense sparks        
I ward those off as performance anxiety        
Our eyes meet-unwavering        
as we listen to our inventive minds        
feeding lies that slide down        
the dry lizard tongues        
and lurch at the speed of thought        
at each other grabbing-gobbling        
Figurative Rafflesiae        
       
The soft breeze acts like an anaesthetic        
somewhere down the line both of us        
are pregnant with a hopelessly artificial feeling        
of love        
Probably that's why we begin to show our        
sheer lack of interest in the ensuing        
dispassionate conversations        
beads of which scatter and get lost        
in the maze of verbose oblivion        
like broken abaci in pastel        
       
Love always wins in the end        
       
Finally I invite her inside for some wine        
She nods and obliges-beamish        
once she adjusts her expensive dress        
[pulls down a bit-pushes up-exhales]        
that dazzles resembling the fluid ocean    
in daytime from below-to a drowning man    
probably        
       
I pour her a drink [Sula Red]        
make myself a whiskey with some soda [Royal Stag]        
adjust my pulsating hard-on        
She smiles and sips        
I try to see thru her see-thru        
       
A blank exotic creature she is        
with infinite sadness stuffed within-        
in the large green eyes-in the half hidden ears-        
in her tiny sinless knuckles        
her breasts rise and fall        
to drum beats of some requiem song        
so it seems    
       
lifeless        
       
Great waves of uncertainty wash over me        
inaction gets hold-pins me down      
to the stool        
In the nick of time        
she excuses herself        
walks away to stand near the window        
She stares at my reflection        
not trying to get my attention        
rather waiting for me to notice her        
fully aware that I would        
eventually        
       
A creature of habit        
with enough blood        
to go one way
       
       
Hide and seek commences        
       
She watches me    
-study my shirt as if it has secret maps and codes        
-pour another drink        
-check my cellphone for texts        
-go thru a dated Cosmopolitan        
-read the copy on the wine bottle        
[Not once I look at her]        
       
-pretend to get a call        
-flash my phone at her and    
-go inside        
   
now it is all about waiting        
tick tock tick tock  
       
Muffled conversations float out from outside        
that is just intriguing as it suddenly starts to seem        
that she is playing me-matching me step by step        
I smile my joy of victory        
       
Evenly poised evenings never could look better        
       
I audibly laugh and barge out of the room        
still pretending to talk on my cellphone        
       
Outside she stands brandishing her cellphone        
before I can act  
my phone rings[still stuck to my ear]        
in a blast of polyphonic ringtone        
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata        
       
Visibly shaken and startled I try to recover        
look at my phone-then at her        
       
She walks out of the door        
like a small evening storm        
her breasts jiggling [in my eyes]        
her stilletos on the hard wood floor        
a sense of finality to her act        
       
I try to stop her but my voice drops down        
just by few octaves and        
dies within        
for the sheer lack of something        
I clearly don't have        
       
there goes another soulmate        
       
I walk back and find her lip gloss        
Strawberry it is-Giordano it reads        
       
Minutes later[teary eyed]      
     
I whimper with my teeth gritted-        
my grip clutching my shaft and moving in        
a delirious frenzy until in a blur I shoot        
a few million motile curses into thin air        
that smells of strawberry fields        
       
Yes-everything happens for a reason.    
       
Written by Whitewand6
Published | Edited 20th Jun 2012
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