today i was with my chicorina by a river. we gave each other books for christmas and wrote silly scrumptious things in the covers, and kneaded each other's backs for a bit. there was an epileptic worm on a twig of grass and two men fishing. we added the skin of an avocado and a wrung-dry lime to the wood-grain water, left some crumbs in the lawn, and went for chocolate coffee in a haunt.
i have my own personal lacan. what i don't like is how he dismantles me. we had a fight last night. an epic one, drawing deep on past sorrows, a too-late courage, a day-old sadness. afterwards i was wrung out, sick, laid out in all my component parts for me to put back together, again. i hate how he dissembles me. i just want to be whole. silly. and scrumptious. to wear umbrellas in my hair and cobwebs on my cheeks and know, from hour to hour, day to day, that i will stay that way, and not be broken, not have to reconstruct myself, once more and again, and again.
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you are most delicious warrior. you already have cobwebs on cheeks everyday. you'll know when you've had enough my honey, and it'll be just the right time. don't worry. love you.
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