Last Act

Someone kiss me please and tell me I am worth something more than sometime wealth and could be chances.I am not asking for much just someone to tell me that me existing makes me valuable. Not even valuable as diamonds or pearls or gold or silver, but valuable as a promise, as a friend.

You see a friend is much more than the word implies. A friend is a fire escape from fear and a gateway to healing. Notice I did not begin with Love. I began with a kiss. Not cupid's kiss, just a kiss, an acknowledgement. This is not about love. Love is ideal but earthbound tangible touch is reality and reality, sadly, is what is real.

I can not make love, I can not capture contain or destroy it. I can not tell it to follow me to the end of the line and cross over that line with me. I can not promise it that I will never despise it when it blights all my ways and makes the passing of time create a quantum ache in my heart. I can live beside it, above, below and around it. I can worship love.

Did you know a person can worship what he can not see?

Sure you did it's like believing in air and we all breathe don't we?

But enough of love.

What about body?

What about feeling?

What about an experience of physical embrace?

O how I wish someone, anyone really, would take me through the browed night and make warmth with me out of body heat. Fingers interlaced with fingers, hands mixing with hands, toes curled around toes. Actually forget the toes because I'm talking about heat not passion, being not eros, presence not the contrite " Oh this is wonderful" because that is too much like love. Not even romance, not even lust, the basest of all sensuous sensations. Just contact. Someone there and alive knowing that I am alive and that I could live and die by them.  

Hold me.

For the love of God someone hold me and make that dream I once dreamt real again.

Make that demon and that fear and that running and that face and those streets and those lights come back to me. Especially the street, make the street extend as far as the moon will take it, and have those flashing northern lights engulf the world once more as it brings down the shadow of the night. But more than anything bring back that face and that girl running with me.

Running from whatever murderous lunatic that wanted our bodies for trophies.

Running from some kind of dark and dreadful figure as it chased us all around that haunted house taking the lives of our friends.

I don't even know if it was a dream or a nightmare but baby I was alive. I need to be alive again. Not to feel alive, but actually be alive and enraptured by fear and excitement as this beautiful girl and I leap through the streets taking long strides. I take her hand and she takes mine, but the actual connection does not come from the touch, but from the intensity of our grip on one another. A lion like grip that seems to say

" This is our last act, make it count, and make it real"  

And as the dream descends a whiteness surrounds us. A thick overwhelmingly bright whiteness not belonging to Heaven, nor the angels, nor God Himself, but belonging to that unknown dwelling place I think I am seeing when I close my eyes. The world stops. We stop. For fear of being captured I tell her to " Kiss me" and I am not being coy this time, I say " Kiss me" and I mean it. I am thinking " The world is with me right now" but as the thought ends the whiteness begins screeching, screaming, screaming in some language I can not understand. I can see the fear in her eyes growing, and in a motion quicker than the speed of sadness, she turns my face to the side and pecks my cheek and in a motion quicker than the first she is gone. Just like that... she is gone and the whiteness takes over.

I think she died for me...

I don't know what her last act meant or why she left, but baby it was real. Realer than any fire that ever burned through my faith in companionship. Realer than any red headed fox that swiped my last batch of forgiveness. Realer than any fabricated French named Jesus Dweller that left one of God's daughters abandoned and alone for the devil to invade. Realer than this life, this reality I am bleeding through.

This is me.

This is me at night lost, angry, stir crazy because I want the world to make sense.  

Because I want my world to make my sense. I want the moments I lost to come back.

I want the people of this century to lay on top of their friends just to feel their heart beat and in the same instant strike up a game of chess.

I want to act now. Live now. Really live in what reality is supposed to look like.

I want Emily Webb to know that "human beings can realize life while they live it" every every minute.