[Play Languid Libretto (I Can’t Love You Better Than This) by Carl Hancock Rux (1999) on repeat for the atmosphere this piece was written in, under red light]
it’s hard for me to ask for what i need.
rewind back, just a little bit further.
it’s hard for me to figure out what i need > it’s hard for me to ask for what i need.
forget/remember is a confusing, disorienting cycle that results in avoidance+denial. the hurt is a residual. i don’t trust my memory anymore.
daily conversations with self, debates arguments but these rounds concession each and every time. self deserves that at least.
channeling earth, stone. digging moats, piling rocks. protecting against transgression.
so barbed wire re-installed. therefore, blood: temporary admission price. it’s a cheap price to pay, i’ve decided.
digging in my heels so far into the earth, my legs morph into roots. trying to build home while only functional above ground. resisting the urge to go completely under. it’s not what i need this time.
i just need space, time, and a little bit of faith. i need patience, protection, and love. i’ve never been this selfish before, never said, please, this is what i need.
(to the external: spelled out, i need sanctuary).
and i’m willing to risk a lot for this safety. it’s the only straw left to clutch at.
when i finally feel safe, surrounded by barbed wire, immovable, i’ll start to breathe, relax. figure out next steps.
try to come to terms with/accept my own mortality, fragility.
i can heal myself, boundaries erected to allow the space for that to happen. and i resolutely refuse to move until it does.
time and patience will sift for me while i isolate hibernate contemplate.
and self? this is all i’ve got.
no sad songs at all
faxes and email,
black coffee and cigarettes
don’t get me high
there are no sad songs
just urban women living in the bush
helping me dream”