a microscope zooms in on the coarse fibers that make up this berber carpet raking my skin. the individual threads are elongated rectangular prisms; hard edges clumped tightly together to make little knots and hills over and over and over again until the knots and hills are many enough(more) to be called "carpet". a bit of my stomach is exposed since im stretched out on the ground, two hands reaching desperately towards my dog. she wont return my lazy advances and stays perched by her water bowl, wondering what the hell im doing laying on the ground with my arms extended towards her.
chipped paint on long pine planks, warped from years of gravity and rain, they will rot like the rest of us.
the icy cold of a playground platform on my bare ass; its february and the moon is full and a lady walks by with her dog and a flashlight swings from her hand like a war trophy. we hold our breath and hope she doesnt notice us. the anxiety always trumped the thrill, but she had strange preferences and i played along. for a while i forgot what it was like to be alone with just my thoughts and my bare walls.
loops and circles and rings and plates and the paths that enormous planets ride forever and since forever ago. a clock ticks somewhere but its out of batteries so it keeps going back and forth, making no progress around the round face of this silent gentleman.
theres a sharp and beautiful poison swimming through the air; invisible but also very bright shades of purple and red. we all breathe it, either knowingly or not.
i dream of you too often and sometimes i realize youre still the cause of all this shit.
If only happiness was like money and never ran out for him. He was the richest man in the world, lavished in abundant jewels and never-ending bundles of bills. He could decide one day to buy a private jet and fly to Spain and it wouldn't even be twenty-four(more) hours before he found himself watching a matador in a bull fight. The wealth poured out of him like water down Niagra Falls, never ceasing. But he was not happy. A new watch could only make him cheerful for so long before he glanced at the time once more and realized he had spent the past five hours wasting away in front of his home theater. The new Porsche he bought last month stood sadly in his eight-car garage collecting cobwebs because he no longer held the desire to go anywhere anymore. If only, he thought, happiness was like money.(less)
"Like, MONEY," I said. "Why does it have to run our lives?" I knew she agreed with me, but she was the one with a real job, sitting in an office from 9 each morning to 7 at night, answering calls, meeting clients, and most importantly, always trying to(more) keep everyone happy. Money wasn't a problem for her, but time was. And I was swimming in time these days.(less)
"I dunno how you can hang out with her," Junpei blurted out, setting his game down on the table and scrunching his face like he'd tasted something bad.
Minako didn't look up. She was lying on her back on one of the couches in the dorm lounge, carefully(more) painting her nails. "Hang out with who? I hang out with a lot of people."
"Mitsuru-senpai, of course!"
Minako paused mid-stroke and blinked, then glanced at Junpei out of the corner of her eye. "Huh? We've been living with her all year, why would it be weird to hang out?"
"I dunno!" Junpei said, flinging himself back against the couch cushion. "Doesn't she, like... smell weird?"
"Junpei, that is disgusting." Minako's gaze had turned into a full-on glare. "Please tell me you're not sniffing all the girls in the dorm."
"No!" Junpei spluttered. "I mean, I know what YOU smell like, we hang out all the time and your shampoo is really strong but..."
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Junpei waved his hands in front of his face in what he hoped was a pacifying gesture. "Mitsuru-senpai DOES have nice perfume, though."
"I can't believe you," Minako huffed, turning back to focus on her hand again. "You're a bigger perv than Kenji."
Junpei didn't want to dwell on being compared to the dude who wanted to date a teacher, so he tried desperately to steer the conversation back on track. "You know what I mean, though, right? Mitsuru-senpai's all like... rich and stuff."
"I dunno!" Junpei threw an arm dramatically over his eyes, wishing he'd never said anything in the first place. "She's just got like, this essence, you know?"
"She's still a person, Junpei," Minako said simply. There was no malice in it, but he flinched anyway.(less)