Author: révolution
Rated: S
Genre: prose
A/N: Tuntuu melkein väärältä tunkea ensimmäinen teksti suomenkieliselle foorumille englanniksi (syy sille, että mussuttelen kuitenkin suomeksi), mutta ehkei se rikos ole! Teksti on lähinnä mielivaltaisen naputtelun tulos, josta lopulta tuli eräänlainen... varoitus. (; Inspiraatio lähti upean Warsan Shiren runosta
Ugly, ja alkuperäisenä ideana oli luoda jonkinlaista proosarunoutta, mutten nyt lopputuloksesta niinkään tiedä.
Anyway, mikäli joku on utelias lukaisemaan, enjoy!
Do Not Fall In Love With Women Like This
Do not fall in love with women who will look at you from across the bar and smile as if to remind you that you woke up together. As if to remind you how lovely the morning light was as it spilled into the room and stained the wrinkly sheets with hues of soft yellows and reds, the same colours as the sunsets you once painted. As if to remind you that it’s all real, and that the girl you’re sitting next to is going to dissolve at any second. Do not fall in love with women whose names you’ll accidentally whisper into the ears of other lovers, making them shiver and look at you as if you’d just cursed them. Those woman cast wild charms and are very hard to escape.
Do not fall in love with women who carry revolutions within their bodies. You will recognize them by simple traits. They are covered in continents, with veins like endless rivers. Their knees rise upon the soft surface of the bath water like mountains, and their thighs are islands, with shores that you dream of when you get lost at sea. Their lips know only how to speak to the wind and you will most likely never quite understand them. Their teeth are little buildings, bordering the cities on their tongues. They live their whole lives with colonies under their fingernails, refugee camps in their palms, riots in their wrists and wars in their minds. Their hearts ache with longing for peace, but peace is not an option with all the fury they contain.
Do not fall in love with women who remind you of alcohol and feel like wine or whiskey. They will get you intoxicated in the evening, and you will be drunk all night. The stars will laugh at you as you stumble down the streets of their hearts in search of some place to call home. And because there are no such places within them, only demonstrations and radical thoughts, you will wake up in the morning, then again at noon, with a hangover that won't pass. Your blood will have turned toxic. You’ll inhale your own obsession, then close your eyes and weep.
Do not fall in love with women who believe in reincarnation. They will tear their whole lives apart only to see if destiny has anything else to offer. They will burn all the bridges they have ever built, standing on them as they do, only to see if they can learn to swim when they crumble and fall. They will destroy you, shatter you, and for what? To make poetry. They will hear you say how cruel it is, but for them it’s only alchemy. They will adore you to the point of wanting to make you immortal, but they all believe that the only way to do so is by sacrifice. They taste like gasoline, with fingertips like matchsticks. They are ready to light it all up. They will set themselves on fire just to feel the heat of the rising phoenix and to be born with brand new eyes. And if they don't rise, they will forever sleep in the ashtray and you, you will never quit smoking.
Do not fall in love with women who are born hungry. They will bite your lips to taste all your sweetness and devour your mind as you moan. They will rip the logic out of your words to build better conclusions on their own, and tear apart your faith to fashion new religions. You will doubt that the Messiah ever was a man, because these women will seem like the only holy thing to you. They are a force of nature, a disaster. They are accidents searching for other shipwrecks, other trainwrecks, and small miracles. They will drink your devotion and consume your entire candor, then lick you clean of your sins to give form to new ones.
Do not fall in love with women like this. These words are a warning sign, flashing along the highway, blinking with bright lights and huge letters and screaming poison and venom. You see, women like this are toxic. Women like me. We will eat you up and burry your bones under the most beautiful of landscapes, then paint still lives of the flowers that we picked upon your body. Listen, this is a warning. We’re mermaids, we’re sirens. We will lure you close, then envelop our arms around you, and in all our happiness, in all our love, we will sink down into the deepest waters and drown you because we forgot that you can't breathe under the surface.
Do not fall in love with women like us. We doubt everything that has ever happened to humanity. We have no God, no divinities, and the only angels we see are the broken people standing on balconies, cigarettes hanging from their lips. History is all that the historians wrote, but if we haven’t seen it, we won’t believe in it. We want to control the present, so we can control the past. We want to make the future worth being a past to our children. We want to rewrite all the books ever written, all the poems, all the comedies, the tragedies, the Russian novellas with women who, in all their poignancy, remind us too much of ourselves. We want to twist the words so that they follow the curves of our own lips and turn all the events to our grace. We will be Shakespeare. We will be Caesar. Cleopatra will never compare.
Do not fall in love with women like us. Do not, do not, do not.
But God, isn't history so sweet spoken form our lips, like honey dripping onto yours? Doesn’t everything seem so right with our mouths pressed to your skin? We can break you and all your glass houses, all the governments and kingdoms, all religions, all doubts, into shards so small you can hardly see them, and build it all up in a new way just to fit us better. We will carry those revolutions into the ground, six feet deep, and we’ll walk through hell like it was built for us, greeting all our old friends. We will be the angels underground, the new idols holding hands with the devil. We will be the villains of heaven, but secretly the Earth will always praise us.
Yes, darling.
Women like me wear the world well.
