Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.
There is a boy asleep in my bed. He has dirty fingernails and one of the prettiest smiles in all the world. Kier, I’ve written about him before, called him an angel sitting by the side of the street. He had a purple hat then and spoke french to me. This time he was trying and failing to light a cigarette. Bandages on his face, knuckles scraped free of skin, he was sitting torn on someone’s front step. “How’re you?” “Terrible, you?” That smile, bruised, but like light. The matches were being blown out one by one by the wind. When I pulled out my lighter and lit it for him, our hands cupping the flame, I felt like I had stepped into the sort of film I found romantic as a child. Henry and June, Delicatessan, something with a heavy handed denial of pathos, quirky with a decent twist of Anias Nin.
It makes me uncomfortable that part of me finds him maddening, as if I could somehow swallow him whole as a muse, transform his flesh into shadow and stich it to my own, so I could be an artist too. I’ve never understood it and it has always made me wary. He’s one of the few people I can’t stare down. I’ve known him awhile now, but I see him rarely. Divinity is dangerous.
And speaking of disturbing things, this wins this week’s Most Awesome Video award. I’ve been passing it around on my messenger, so you may have already encountered it on your friend’ page, but if not, it’s well worth the momentary horror.