The Hungarian

i lie down face up in the bathtub after a passionate conversation about irony, deviance, fire, beauty.

i feel nothing.

i am thinking like I did when i was happy...

that kind of happy I remember as happy. the difference is that i don't remember being sad. i remember being excited. discovering something shiny from within. something important. always looking to the future but enjoying the present as if it were an expensive wine.

i know sad. i know hurt. the difference was the absence of knowing. the naiveté. the daoist who doesn't know that she is one.

i submerge my face, my eyes, my ears, everything but my nose and mouth, but even they are just barely peaking. I want to be as inside of the water as i can be. drown the outside and hear from underneath.

I pull myself up.
A Beep and a Buzz...

The Hungarian is speechless, scared, but still does not trust. I had to trust. no fair.

freezing cold but i stay. beep buzz beep buzz constantly pulled from within from underneath from inside to experience more

The Hungarian is thankful. Yes. Understands what crazy means. drinks life like wine on a porch far away from here. goes there on a motorcycle.

i'm left to myself. challenging the fire closer to my home. i am beneath the water hearing what the water has to say.

And the Hungarian doesn't care. is hiding just as much. is ready to die.

I am far away. apparently I should have taken the bus. I was much healthier then...

i am not ready.

nor is the Hungarian...