glory! : witness tampering

washer

Goodnight my love Remember me as you fall to sleep Fill your pockets with the dust and the memories That rises from the shoes on my feet I won't be back here Though we may meet again I know it's dark outside Don't be afraid Everytime I ever cried from fear Was just a mistake that I made Wash yourself in your tears And build your church On the strength of your faith Please Listen to me Don't let go Don't let this desperate moonlight leave me With your empty pillow Promise me the sun will rise again I too am tired now Embracing thoughts of tonight's dreamless sleep My head is empty My toes are warm I am safe from harm...

Saturday, March 28, 2026

witness tampering

you didn't always enchant me like the way i am enchanted by you, even before the last time i saw you.

i like your hunger and the way you move with true bravado and drive. i wanted you to walk with me in a way, and it made me feel tremendous guilt. it doesn't now, but i wanted to know and be known by you in a multitude of ways. there was something in that laughter and way of going about things.

and you are and were starving. you are so ashamed and stronger than you could ever truly know. i believed and believe in you through all that i and the world have put you against. the real truth is i was jealous over you from the moment you made it clear there was something about you that wanted me. there was something about the way you were since that moment that i could not help but notice, it made it more evident for me. you were standing too close, and i could see what it was you wanted for a second, a flash in those eyes, but relented. i, of course, never made it clear i saw through the next weeks of our lives, where you distanced and shook me off. i never would have let anything happen, no matter how much i could have wanted it.

you could not shake me off that last day and only you know what was on your mind. i have my methods. i saw it. your hand was shaking.

and i, of course, never did much of anything about it. it was a passing thing which cemented itself after my life crashed into itself and i stopped having a reason to feel bad about it.

good. its a good thing. it would have turned into something even more awful. i know you still have me curled around some piece of your head.

i know now that you're not that bohemian or poet you want to be, and you don't have true merit in the things you want to have merit in. i do, i know that. and you also do and thats what you needed to absorb off me. its my real human value, that and perseverance. yours is also perseverance, in a different way.

i believe in you still, not out of talent but out of wit and want. i know that. i don't think other people see that as clearly as i do. i would have never minded sharing that with you if circumstances were different. they are now, but in a way that makes things too complicated for us to ever talk again.

we never might, and i'm alright with that fact. you know what i know and i know what you do. it would not be fair to describe my wishes for you as all good, but i do wish and know that at least the most brave of your dreams is not beyond your reach. in fact, i think its impending in a long term.

for a moment you are over me in my mind and i could almost imagine how good it would be just to have at you for a second. again, its a passing thing. you go work on it and i'll go survive someplace else and spend my time in some other route. my door is open if you ever want to stumble. return to sender.

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sylvia plath, the bell jar

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Psalm 18: 6-11

In my distress I called upon the Lord, And cried out to my God; He heard my voice from His temple, And my cry came before Him, even to His ears. Then the earth shook and trembled; The foundations of the hills also quaked and were shaken, Because He was angry. Smoke went up from His nostrils, And devouring fire from His mouth; Coals were kindled by it. He bowed the heavens also, and came down With darkness under His feet. And He rode upon a cherub, and flew; He flew upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness His secret place; His canopy around Him was dark waters And thick clouds of the skies.