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Don't Touch This III

An Exercise in Writing to a Playlist on the First Night of Cold

By isa belPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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(Amenamy - Jon Hopkins Remix) cutting ties and breaking chains - chains from the ground to my ankles, and to my wrists. sitting and waiting and gathering the force - balling up thunder and shoving it through my ribs into my lungs - the force to do what needs to be done. freer to the point of flying instead of floating. snatching lightning from the clouds and wearing it as a coat so I can never be mistaken for a shadow again. prickling and sparking and freer. breaths of thunder in the warmth of my own lightning.

(Don't Wanna Be Your Girl) okay with being alone. being okay, alone. craving a touch and a stone heart thrust into my hands without toxic strings attached - but that doesn't seem realistic right now, and I'm trying to start living right. deciding even if it hurts. you won't kill me tonight.

(Permutations) away from the Baltimore winter - aren't I always trying to maintain? you weren't supposed to be a familiar accident. despite a heart in pain is how I am operating right now. watching time pass - maybe I shouldn't have gotten a new watch, because now all I can do is count how far from you I am, and how much closer to a final breath. a one-sided waiting game, only half of us awake, and every face I see can see through mine.

(The Mother We Share) and there is no letting go of some things - part soft me are always going to stay bruised. tokens of your fingers tattooed onto my eyes and etched into my skin - though to be fair I may have done that on my own. pushing myself to the edge again, but I always forget that it will be a new edge, and I am trying not to trip running through unfamiliar terrain.

(Siren) like I said, some parts of me are forever bruised, and some of me still feels the weight of a burden I did not want to carry. washing away the dirt seems easy until days later I am still finding you under my fingernails, and a month has passed but there is still grit coating my throat. always looking over my shoulder, and I don't think I'll ever know if they're coming for me or for you - the problem is that my reaction would be the same either way.

(push pull) turn the volume up for this one. be young and stare - the breaking of the wave will never stop sweeping me off my feet. since I started the clouds have uncovered the moon and the steam is starting to stream from my eyes because I don't know if I'll ever be able to shake it. all I wanted was to build my own constellation lair, to cover us with stars and nights and sweet breaths of summer, but it's winter now, and

(It's All in Vain) you've shown me, or have you told me, because you could never look me in the eye to thrust the knife. somehow everything old feels fresh again tonight, just bared to the air and stinging and following the same long path along the river, away from home. now I see, learned your way - I don't believe you. all these fears may have been in my head, but now they are real and here and slicing at my back in the dark, and I don't know if you let them out or I did.

(Rivers and Roads) sitting between a river and a road at the same time I was a year ago, and maybe nothing has changed or everything has, but it sure feels like I've lost my footing in time. could have been one of those stones I used to swallow, dropped right in front of me on my walk over here, but I think I stumbled right over the edge into a year ago, into two years ago - I wish you were still in my future, because I never wanted you to be a part of my past, and maybe this time I can do something differently - we can do something differently. nothing is confirmed, but my heart is sinking past my solar plexus, and it always knows when something is wrong.

(Passenger) I think the worst part is that I keep telling myself it's not going to go the same way, because you are different than every other you before you, but if it keeps going the same way, maybe it's not about the you. like I said before - one good heart is plenty, two is lucky - but I'm starting to think maybe mine is the unlucky one, the one wrapped in toxic strings.

(Deadwater) of course, if I could be stronger - because didn't I know from the beginning how this would play out? back on my knees. left in pieces. maybe I shouldn't be waiting - every passing cloud makes the task harder, thrusts the knife deeper. trying to find the reason in my own hands so I can burn it out of me, because I can't keep sitting and waiting for change.

(Youth) not being a shadow, am I leaving an empty space? does it trouble you? if it's there at all - did I make enough of an impact to even leave a space? I keep telling myself I am too wrapped up in this single dark tendril of pain, and I am only strengthening something which does not exist outside of the inside of me, but I don't know if that's the case. this time setting fire to my insides is not fun. I need a break. I don't know if I'll be back.

and it's always a Wednesday, because I don't yet have the strength to make it through the valleys.

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isa bel

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