october 4, 2004

once again. i am homeless in heathrow. a number in the crowds. this is the quiet before the storm. this may be the last time i am ever alone again. quiet time to write. 9 hours to kill. 9 hours before i begin my return to my lovers... one gives me life, the other, she takes it away. one i will create with... the other i have to fight to stay alive.

beirut, what say you? shall we make peace? will you embrace my presence? protect my children? guide my faith. heal my wounds? i am returning to you. i am going to dive into you viscous insanity. covering my skin with wine and dance. in lies and car bombs. in plastic and silicon. in wear and tear of every day lies. in expectations. in unresolved sex. in mini skirts and long billowy black. the streets cry out to embrace the devil within. the material. in excess. in excess you shine. providing shelter to homeless lipstick lines. providing for the stockings of every lace. nourishing look, but don't touch. nourishing touch but don't penetrate. nourishing penetrate but don't tell a soul. don't tell a soul but fuck me all you want. fuck me all you can. all you can if you dare. dare me to give. give and take. take my body. my body but not my soul. my soul belongs to the devil. the devil that lives on the streets. the streets that house the excess. the excess of the material. the material of which beirut can not be without. without you, i have no purpose. my only purpose is to serve you. is to follow your way. is to let go and dive. dive into your billowy black. because black is the color of the black beirut night. black is the color of your hair. your hair which i will be running my fingers through in a few hours. black is the color of the mediterranean sea at night. black is the color of the horizon when it touches the sea. the sea is the color of the horizon at night. the night and beirut are best friends. also my best friends. these are the kinds of friends that will never die on you. they will not disappear. they will still be, long after i have gone. beirut. beirut.

where are you taking me? don't pull me away from her. though she kills me. though every embrace is also a rape. this is how it must be. this is the only way i can survive. and this is the only way she knows how to live.

it is raining in heathrow.

my life with you is going to be extraordinary. i am almost afraid. where as you want to live on light and sun, i find myself embracing the night and dark. i want to sink into the insanity of beirut. i want to indulge in her madness. i want to lose myself to the incoherent irrational. i don't want to be responsible for my actions. i want to embrace recklessly. i want to recklessly barge my way through her intimate and lush labyrinth of crazed nights and insomniac days. i want to hike her swelling mountains and swim in her liquid sea. i want to kiss her turquoise skies. i want to surrender my body to her chilling breeze. i want to walk on the cornishe in the winter and feel her waves crash over me.

i am coming home. your body is my sanctuary. it is the only thing that will protect me from her. your warm ocean of skin and hair will hide me whenever she decides to unleash herself upon me. my fragile frame that could never say no to her.

this is the song of us. the song i have been humming my whole life. i have always known the melody. but you my love. my lover, you are the lyrics. you are the poetry in my writing. you are the ink stains on my fingers. you are the shiver that runs through my body. you are the hand that feeds me. the light that guides me as i spiral. down. even when i lose my way, i am still guided by you. you let me know that it is ok to get lost. i get lost because i want to. because i need to.