Thermochromic table by Jay Watson
imagine banging someone on that table
Animals you never knew existed!
1) Maned Wolf
2) Pink Fairy Armadillo
3) Patagonian Mara
4) Raccoon Dog
5) Sunda Colugo
6) Irrawaddy Dolphin
I took these photos 3 years ago. The summer I was 17, I spent so many sunny afternoons at this place. Either going on walks by myself, or camping with friends. When I think about being a teenager, this is what comes to mind, dirty shoes, big dumb smiles, pizza by a campfire, and cigarettes alone.
i can’t get in lifts with people because i have a sort of phobia of breathing in people’s breath
and when i got asked what was wrong by my law teacher (she thought i looked ill)
I had to fucking reply “I prefer people when they’re not breathing”
It’s quiet in my room.
Nothing but the smooth sound of the central heat to fill the empty space.
I hate when it shuts off.
You know I hate when it shuts off.
But it’s worse when you’re not here
because I don’t have the comfort of your embrace to protect me from the silence.
I bet you didn’t know that something as simple as the vents giving up their gentle hum could make my bones ache for you.
If you were here my head would be on your chest and I would hear your heartbeat against my eardrum.
The heat just shut off.
I want to listen to your heart.
Every time I nestle my head onto that special place on your chest and call it “home,” you have no idea how true it is.
Because the warmth of your flesh and the low, steady pace of your heart whispering it’s rhythm into my ear never fails to remind me of how lucky I am to have a pulse that quakes in sync with yours.
The heat is back on, but I’m colder than ever.
At least it’s not too quiet anymore.
Lately I’ve been trying my hardest to make sure I fall asleep while the vents are quietly roaring their warmth into the air,
because when it’s too quiet, and my head is smashed uncomfortably against my pillow, I can’t hear your heart.
I bet you didn’t know I thought about that sound,
how it’s beating so far away from mine, in another part of town, in another bed.
It should be next to mine.
I miss my lullaby.
The heat will shut off again and I will finish this poem and collapse into the emptiness of my sheets and long for your breath against my cheekbone.
The thing about the heat, though, is that it always comes back.
I hope you will too.