Grey matter.

I go through transitory periods where there are no words, only sensations. Language becomes a lump in my throat and transforms. It is now energy without any shape or delineation. It’s mist between my fingertips that I cannot grasp. So, I forage before the eruption. I want to be prepared after all since I don’t remain quieted for long. Little excites me until then. I know it’s only my mind’s tricks and defense because there is something heavy brewing. All my dreams lately have been about ghosts, as they often are. My father walked among the living again and my ex lover threw me up on the kitchen counter. I try to stop the inevitables. In my dreams I warn my father of his fate often. I relive these scenes as if I am the ghost. As if I am the one who died that spring. Even after those last moments between us, I haven’t truly let go. Even though I told him to. I unconsciously rewind and replay until I get the chance to say to him long before the coma, "I know that you are going to die and we need to spend these last months, weeks, days, hours, & minutes together, but above all, I am going to be okay."

In high contrast, the actor has crept back into my thoughts as well, but it’s only out of habit and he doesn’t deserve a name anymore in my journals. Almost 6 months now. It was like kicking an addiction. The longest I’ve ever been without his contact or influence in five years with zero physical withdrawal. I’ve come to know that sometimes I must wait, torture myself for a while, until the love is bled out of me. Until I come to my senses naturally. See, I would’ve repeated this love affair with another until I understood the inner workings of it.

Even this man who sometimes appears in my dreams isn’t really him. They share similar features, however his body is different when it’s fitted to mine. He feels different. Everything is smoother. The edges around our frame are in soft focus. It is only because the actor was the last man I loved that he serves as a template. He is still fading from my memory. But, my skin doesn’t retain the essence of new lovers whom I have no genuine affection for. They cannot penetrate me beyond flesh. I forget them easily.

Like that movie, only it’s not always places, I’m homesick for people that don’t exist. I just need a soothing voice to lull me to sleep at night and a lover to hold me down when I awake.