Sep. 7th, 2013

metaphorliteral: (we bleed the ink of subtle allegory)
Every night, I dream of love
and every morning wake into a nightmare.
I search for vibrations and frequencies. Will
tuning into the right wavelength bring me your voice
or merely lead me further into the desert?
I look up and see nothing but the glow

of the lights above the Arby's. I look down and see the glow
of your smile for me. What terrifying love
forces cacti to bloom, brings rain to the desert,
dispels for a moment this waking nightmare?
What power in the mouth which shapes the voice
that murmurs in all our ears, that will

hold our town together with force of will
and a private smile lit by the glow
of the "on-air" sign? Your sonorous voice
telling all of Night Vale about your love
for me is sort of a privacy nightmare,
but my romantic life was a barren desert

before I moved to this uncanny desert
town. Did some small part of me will
this impossible place into being-- some forgotten nightmare,
long ago demolished by the nightlight's glow?
Was some corner of my soul so desperate for love
that it conjured up this place and the voice

of my beloved Cecil-- the Voice
of Night Vale-- surrounded on all sides by desert
and monitored by the Sheriff's Secret Police, but willing to love
regardless of all the eyes and ears on us-- the kind of will
to love that makes the sky (mostly void, partially stars) glow
and reassures me with soft words when I have a nightmare.

When I got here, I thought this place was a nightmare.
I never thought that there would be a voice
to murmur my name affectionately, a hand to hold beneath the glow
of mystic lights, a man to walk beside through the desert,
a heart to cherish in the darkness. I will
tune my radio past the static to hear my love.

Somehow my nightmare turned into a dream of the desert.
Will I be forever bewitched by the mysterious glow
or will I find my love by the sound of his voice?
metaphorliteral: (typewriter)
You knew that you were what I needed,
so when I turned around, you were a ghost.
Any good mistake is worth repeating; every
time I said "I love you," expressed my wants,
did you think my words were just blowing smoke?
You knew my desires and thwarted them. Have

I ever learned my lesson? It seems I have
hit upon the way to never get just what I need--
simply ask you for it. Sitting on the porch exhaling smoke
and dreams, my breath shaped a ghost
out of your name. Come here, I want
to tell you a secret: you were never

just a man to me, not once in memory were you ever
simply physical, and you may never be. You have
a gravity to you, words and glance and gesture. I want
your focus, I wanted for a while to be what you needed
like you were for me. When I'm a ghost
I will haunt your grave with longing and the scent of smoke.

I don't know how to cope besides to smoke.
The stress has been getting to me. Did you ever
think of how I felt, or was I just a ghost
occasionally troubling your thoughts? I have
to know, even if it hurts. I think I need
to trouble you if I can't be what you want.

I wish you would have told me what you want.
No sweet, no liquor, no intoxicating smoke,
and I guess not me, either. Did you ever need
to hold me reverently in your mind or did you never
think to ask yourself what I could be for you? I have
to admit I'd still give you anything-- my breath, my ghost,

my body or my love. I'm haunted by the ghost
of who I could have been for you, if I'd been what you want
even for an hour. Tell me now, what have
you wished for in secret? Did the smoke
of the torch I carry for you never
once bring tears to your eyes? What do you need?

I choke my love with smoke and let the ghost
rise and soar away. You need to know I never
wavered in my devotion: you are what I want, what I need.

Love Spell

Sep. 7th, 2013 02:50 pm
metaphorliteral: (in the process)
Perhaps my agenda is too overt:
my plan is for me to lead and you to follow,
to finally be your goal, to have you get in your car
and wonder how you ended up at my house. I know
the incantation to initiate this reversal, the words which
will bring me all I ever wanted: you.

I don't care about the ethics. I just need you
to come to me for a change, to drive over
all the miles between us, and knock on my door, which
is always open for you. Come in, and what will follow
will be just between you and me, forever. I have no
need to crow once I've got you under my spell. I care

only for what I know we could have between us. Does it scare
you to think of being in my clutches? What are you
so afraid of? I'd treat you well, cherish you, allow no
sorrow to cloud your eyes, no tear to spill over.
All I want is to make a request and have you follow
my plea. I won't force you-- I may be a witch,

but I'm not evil. I just have a heart which
cries constantly for your love, which is covered in scars,
which could have set its sights on any fellow,
but chose the brightest shining star-- you.
The spell's been said-- soon the longing will be over,
you will be here and finally I will know

your voice soft with words of love, never saying no,
the touch of your refined hands, over which
I've spent so many restless thoughts, the sight of you over
me at long last. Get in your car
and come to me now, I've waited long enough for you.
So I bid, and so you must now follow.

I've left a trail of fairy lights along the route you must follow,
I've marked your way and made a place for you. No
excuses now, no hesitations-- it's time for you
to be mine now. My spell has you bewitched
and in time you will love me in truth, will care
for me above all others. My incantation is over.

A spell for now, but true love will soon follow:
perhaps you hold no love for me as yet, but witches
have power over men, and so I over you.


metaphorliteral: (Default)

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