Cloud Blood




Lyrics to Ani's Song...


Driving Nowhere...

i was scared that afternoon. lonely. beyond belief i was lonely. he told me he'd be safe. and i believed him. he was a stranger, but i believed him anyway. not because he was convincing or smelled trustworthy. i believed him because i wanted to. because nothing felt right.

i dragged myself off the floor of the public bathroom. they just remodeled it...last semester or maybe last year. i don't remember, but it was very white, and i felt very misplaced. i wiped my tear-stained face on the back of my hand, and shaking went to the telephone.

i drove for a night. it felt good to be driving. i almost felt healed, i almost felt whole. driving down interstate 94, following the red tail lights of the black car ahead of me. i stopped only for gas. and i drove until i was there. i was inches from not stopping. maybe going all the way to chicago or new york or somewhere in between. but i didn't. i found the house, apartment building. i rang the doorbell and i went inside.

it was a mess. he smelled bad, joining the filth, like he hadn't showered in a few days. it was an old building, and i wanted to leave as soon i stepped inside. there was bad art, those pictures that you might see on the cover of a science fiction fantasy book hanging on the walls. they weren't framed. i'd say he didn't have time, but i think he was just too lazy. i stepped through the first room, beautiful hardwood floors covered casually in shit. i pushed the garbage bags away from me, resting on, resting beside the furniture. it reminded me of this house that i lived by when i was a little girl. the same furniture, i think. i remember having sleep overs there with their daughter. i remember them explaining the color mauve to me. except they kept their house clean, relatively. and then they moved.

the kitchen was layered with dirty pots, dirty dishes, and half eaten food, old. i felt sick just being there. being around it. i was lonely when i left, and the isolation was deepening with the dirty differences. i pulled the brown corduroy collar of my coat close, even though it was hot in there.

i wouldn't look straight at him. i had made a mistake. i should have kept driving. i should have kept going. i should have kept running. at least when you're moving, the wheat in the fields lining the country roads, at least they can scrape some of the trouble from you. here i felt it multiply. here i was covered in it, suffocating.

i would steal a quick glance at him, until i knew his shape. he was ugly. i'm not a small woman, but he made me feel anorexic. he wore glasses, too big for his round face. dressed like one of those boys in junior high, even at twenty-eight, that everyone would make fun of. and his dirty scent. i couldn't get over his dirty smell.

he wanted to touch me. to put his arms around me. engulf me with his sweaty warmth. god, i was drowning. "you're so pretty" he'd tell me, and i'd look away. he thought i was shy. and maybe i am, but not that night. because that night i was scared. "you're like a sad angel" he'd say, and i wanted to hide.

he'd look at me like i owed him. i needed to run away, but he didn't understand. i needed to run away, not run into him. i needed freedom, i needed breath. i was sinking under his weight and he didn't even notice. "you're so pretty," he'd tell me, and i should have left. but where did i have to go? this was it. this was all there was.

he put me into his bed that night, and i was too panicked to suggest anything else. i was wearing one of his shirts, i didn't pack any clothes with me but the ripped jeans and thrift store t-shirt i was wearing when i left. it was too big for me. it was so big, and i could feel his dirt under the arms. i wished i was anywhere but there. i wished i was outside, where it was cool, where it was safe. he kept rubbing against me. i closed my eyes.

"do you want to touch me?" i whispered, cold. he did, of course, and i looked out the window. he had this window by his bed, it looked out onto the street. i wanted that window. i wanted to keep it, press it into my backpack when i left the next day. and i knew i would leave, even though he was telling me not to. i knew i could never see this man again. i didn't want to. i felt sick.

he did of course. he thought he was really getting to me. getting into that secret nest that we keep those we obsess over, those we desire in. he thought he had found himself a girl. and when i cried, keeping his dick out of me, keeping him from fucking me, he thought i was emotional. he thought i was moved or some pathetic shit. he thought next time. next time he'd get inside.

he sent me a letter not long after i had left those rooms. he told me that he loved me. i threw it out.



Backwards to Both Hands
Forward to Come Away From It


backbackback