...

lightning storms.

the other night when the wind slammed the door shut during the storm,

i woke up screaming with a flashback from last year:

a gun at my face in fort greene park,

at the monument steps,

on top of a mound of buried bodies -

the crypt for 12,000 prison ship martyrs,

in the middle of one of many break-up fights

with the deadest of loves at my side

i screamed “OH MY GAWD WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!” and

myke hugged me and said “nothings gonna happen to you here, i’ve got you, you’re safe.”

i buried my cry-laugh in his chest.

he is solid. a mountain.

holding back laughter so as not to offend me.

i’d forgotten what safe felt like.

it reminds me of this old bjork song/video. hyperballad:

“We live on a mountain
Right at the top
There’s a beautiful view
From the top of the mountain
Every morning I walk towards the edge
And throw little things off
Like:
Car parts, bottles and cutlery
Or whatever I find lying around

It’s become a habit
A way
To start the day

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

It’s early morning
No one is awake
I’m back at my cliff
Still throwing things off
I listen to the sounds they make
On their way down
I follow with my eyes ‘til they crash
Imagine what my body would sound like
Slamming against those rocks

When it lands
Will my eyes
Be closed or open?

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you”