What would be the most realest language ever spoken by the tongue? Supposedly, it is love. I do wonder why I always have, but it never spoke to my mind as to why love is the greatest language. Perhaps I am led to finally believe because of turmoils being spit out instead of being kept inside. I love melodies. I love the art of writing. I also love you. How come I hadn't viewed you earlier, the pure perfume you try to resonate on your soul... it's so sweet.
Whenever I have thought that it was over, I managed to feel your church shouting in my ears... am I your believer, perhaps?
WELL, she kind of is in a way, isn't she? Even though the formulated actions and the way of the fingers doesn't show her full worship, she indeed does. But can you worship her too? The fingers on mine... rub it on me, let me feel your nails... scratch me, make me feel blood... disfigure and bend me, shape me in ways you never wanted... let me be on the edge of insanity and adoration...
WHY AM I SO FRAGMENTED? I wonder—she fucking wonders, of course, 'cause it's all me.
The girl's glasses do not seem to do her justice... every word spoken and let about doesn't lead anywhere but the thought of a wedding and blood-infused jewelry. Scared and scarred, isn't she, Miss Apa? I sometimes wonder why.
"Open the door," she said.
"To where?"
"I don't know, but you must."
"You have to tell me first. To where?"
"To the white-clouded dimension where the splitting happens... splitting of the nothing, indeed."
"Okay, I do admit it, Mel. Why the hell are you like this?"
"I genuinely sometimes don't know..."
But Mel is not Mel. You cannot let it be.
Mr. Dino... or Mr. Shall... I sometimes wonder what you see in me, right? I am not the best, but I do appreciate you not running away. My cute Dino, I want you to know that your dear woman won't leave you. She loves you too much for that, and she always will. Now, Mr. Dino, you know full well how other dinosaurs have hurt and ripped me out again and again with their sharpened teeth against my flesh... you know that, don't you? I feel like if Mr. Dino should ever leave, in my remains there will be nothing but stained curses... forever.
"Apa, are you there?" "Yes, I am here." They both shouted... it was like looking through a mirror.
Could you tell me why you are always like this? I do wonder why and why you just constantly are constant in so many ways I cannot fathom... not necessarily that good, but your thinking is basically your life. How could you think so much and be so little?
Ouch, that did hurt a bit, but you must know that the reason for these things is that I would want to be reborn, so many times at that. From the needed need to write to the eating of fiction that happens so often, to just eat the time I have alive. It's as if I hope to be able to be reborn in a way I deem fit... but since I myself am not religious and I sadly do comprehend the world in my own way, I am kind of fit to be lonely. Mr. Dino does help, though, more than he ever will know... well, who knows, maybe he knows now.
Hearing the quadra from four days ago, I hear an "I love you." It's so different and so thick-full of love, with such a simple, uncompressed waveform. It's just there among the various facts and the sandwiched by mental illness—supposedly my favorite meal. That "I love you" does help, Mr. Dino... it does help.
WONDER...
"Goodnight, my sweet, wonderful girl."
"Just wondering why weren't you answering."
"Sounds wonderful, love."
"Baby, have a wonderful night, my love."
"I wonder how come you're more shy than me, though."
"I wonder when we fuck if blood will come out."
"I wonder."
"I wonder, is there a way."
"I wonder."
"Hope your day will be wonderful, and if it isn't, you will always be able to fall in my arms."
"I wonder."
"Just wondering."
"I wonder if that didn't happen, if we would be like this."
"I really can't hate your parents since they gave birth to my amazing, wonderful wife."
"If I don't know what that something is and I'm never able to perceive what you tried to mean, what else am I supposed to do but wonder and think of what could've happened if I knew."
"It will do wonders."
You know, I have wondered a lot, my good boy. I do wonder if sometimes you will leave me too, but I always know no wonder for the love I have for you, even if clouds try to cloud me. Even if the not-so-nice people around me try to make my communication with you feel hard, I will still cuddle up in a ball just so I can whisper sweeties in your ears.
The language we are supposed to speak is love, right? Yours is Spanish, but it doesn't mean I can't try, innit?
"Te amo?" Is that good?
"My marido," is that spectacular?
"Chico lindo," is that fantastic?
"Alma dividida," is that us?
"Juntos Para Siempre," that's the truth.