|the end of the madness & magic ash.
||[Aug. 27th, 2009|02:57 am]
i'm not used to being around anyone with the same childlike spark, and freer..
he ran away to sweden and fell in love. and now back "home" (he no longer calls london his home), he is ill and lovesick because he's back here and hates it. it's nothing compared to where he went - and neither are the people in his eyes. he came back full of extreme vulgarity, peppered with insults toward the people (sean & i) who had been keeping his disgusting apartment for him while he was away. [um... where's the thanks?]
i did treasure him.. i treasured him dear like i were an angel who came into his life and everyone else saw it but him.. people would stare at us in the street and comments (from people we knew well to passers-by) were directed at us with things like why i am with him! and that i can do better or that i am "pitied" because he doesn't treat me as well as i deserve. i would strike back and put my arm around him and tell him that he is perfect. i saw him as a supermodel who wore scruffy clothes (which still suited him) with sledge-hammer wit and charm. but in the end, he never reacted to me the way he did to that country - we just fed off one another and shared the same energy, the same vein of madness as though we were the same person. stupid lost passport.. if i'd have gone at least it could have been shared and our bond reinforced. god, i feel stupid.. and discarded. i wish i were angrier with him. i don't like that i can't stay angry at him.
my desire for romantic love has taken on the force of being a daily and nightly mind-fuck again. if anything, it's good for my art... it's good for inspiration because again i feel so grossly fucking unbeautiful so i'm looking everywhere for beauty to cling onto. where on earth is it anymore? ~ because i saw him as a whole world of beautiful and he turned out to be a compulsive liar, i feel like i can't trust anything beautiful anymore because of how easily deceiving it is.
right now, all i want is for him to fuck off back to sweden so i can just pretend he has vanished off the face of the earth. i've set a lot of plans in motion for the immediate future which frightens me but i feel like i am clinging onto my own ambitions and what i've made i can personally trust. i have dreams in the night about romance happening in fields and playgrounds and among natural and intoxicating surroundings. we kiss madly, grasping one anothers flesh with urgency and with tears flooding my eyes i plead him to make love to me beside that tree over there. sweat from fevers makes our skin stick together. i can't stand not being as close as we possibly can regardless of where we are but where we are amplifies the naturality of sex. so we fuck, like animals in the wilderness who need no justification for what they are doing.
it makes the world spin. and now, after having done god-knows how many drugs, powders, elixirs and smokable things of all kinds.. i know that love really is the drug which gives me the most powerful high.
it'll happen. if this dream never comes true, there is no point in me being alive.
i live for love like this.
i live for love like this..