Friday, May 8, 2009

Waiting for inspiration

It lingers in the back of my throat like wine waiting to seduce me and on the dunes of my lips it sits like traces of her lip gloss... and it happens so often I have made her my mistress and I hide her away from all the others that linger... all those great first lines... all those amazing titles waiting to be part of some epic novel... or at least some poem that will make her stay.
It comes floating in the air like a magical, whimsical gossamer... a conversation I over heard or a line from an article in a magazine... sometimes it comes from the incoherent mumbling of some beggar... perhaps trying to find the ending to his own rock opera. Those first lines always come so easy... but the rest of the story... the middle and the end... elude me. They haunt me and they taunt me... they crash against the walls in my mind like the waves hitting rocks on the shores of Malta and the spray of the water rises up in hues of gray to paint my evenings in black and white and shades of "what could be"... they haunt me... Like the whispers she left behind... calling to me from a dream... whispering the words she knows will bring me to my knees, the words that will have me crawling on my belling through the fires of my lust, the words I will devour with the hunger of a wolf and drink in like the nectar from Ponce De Leon’s fountain... they haunt me... like the ever present scent of Chanel that I can never wash off my clothing or my fingers... or the sheets on my bed... she’s always there waiting for me to find her... to charm her... to seduce her into my arms once more... but when I reach out to hold her she fades away like the ghosts of so many other lovers that never had the chance to know who I really was and what I was really looking for... and she fades away through the walls and wanders down the hall... taunting me... and I chase after her with promises that I know I will never keep, promises of eternal love and devotion and fidelity... I fall to my knees at the feet of her alter and offer my confession in exchange for communion and the baptism that will cleanse my soul and wash the mortal desires from my body making me worthy of enlightenment... humble and broken and faithfully hers... just give me those words... but she taunts me... like phantom promises from a Lauren Bacall movie... and I... might be Bogart... and I might be insane... but I follow her... from room to room, down hallways and through doors that haven’t been opened since the winter wind blow them shut and I play hide and seek with her... and I bargain with her... I offer what’s left of me to her... I loose my mind for her... but I get nowhere closer to her... and the words that can save me fade away with her - into... the night.

5 comments:

Isabel Martínez Rossy said...

Nos empeñamos en perseguir fantasmas, en mantener el eco de palabras, de gestos, de cuerpos...
Abrazamos la niebla...y esperamos un regreso...

dash deringer said...

Isabel, necesito salirme de aqui... lejos de aqui donde nadie me conoce... lejos de este pais... necesito algo nuevo... empezar de nuevo.
estoy un poco triste y no tan seguro por que.
son las 5:32 - otra noche sin dormir - son 2 noches ya...
siento solo... estoy solo...(?)
no se como explicarte... no se que me paso...

Isabel Martínez Rossy said...

Me entristece que estés así y no saber bien que decirte...a veces nos puede nuestra cabeza, imágenes del pasado, imágenes de lo que deseamos y no es. Entonces perdemos la perspectiva de lo que nos rodea, incluso de nosotros mismos.
Empiezo a estar cansada de que mis sentimientos no me permitan tener la serenidad para disfrutar de lo bueno que tengo, de que mi estado de ánimo dependa de lo que alguien quiera o no darme...
Y sé que eso sólo puedo cambiarlo yo, que cada uno sigue su camino y ni puedo ni quiero cambiar a nadie.
No sé, Dash, quizás yo tampoco esté en un momento en que tenga nada claro, pero sí intento aceptar que las cosas son como son y no como yo quisiera que fuesen...aunque esto tampoco es nada fácil...
Intenta respirar, sólo respirar y parar todas esas ideas que se repiten y no llegan a ningún sitio...siente que dentro de ti hay una paz sin palabras, sin pensamientos que está allí para que la busques y la encuentres.
Ya sabes...la luz del faro.
Un abrazo

Elizabeth said...

Thank you for your kind comment on my post. Reading your words here helps be believe that my own journey may not be so removed from others as it may sometimes seem. Maybe we are not so alone after all....

dash deringer said...

Isabel - gracias... tus palabras me hacen recordar un mentor que siempre me decia que yo pienso mucho - tal vez... tenia razon... pero no puedo ser de otra manera.
bueno... ha dormir... y gracias.

Elizabeth - I'm glad I came across your place... it was a long restless night last night and I needed some... well... something... I really do like the way you right - short and to the point... but... there is a lot in there.
so I am going to try to sleep - if not... I'll see you all in cyber space.