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Although, sometimes I worry about you, sweet Nikita. All these screwed-up head-fucks in this town. All your emotions that hang around, that betray you and smudge your make-up. Even though you've told them to 'Git, go on, git outa here!' They don't know where else to go. They hang around on front verandahs or by bedroom windows. I've heard it pays to leave your heart beneath the stones. If only you remembered where you buried it along that stream, that rapid creek. You look for hearts amongst the hungry snouts of crocodiles. They are not bad, but they must eat. What do they dream about? They dream about meat. Someone is breaking into your car tonight. It's so easy to lose something, or to lose sight of yourself. Where did you go? Sweetheart, you are not the person I used to know. And neither am I. It pays well to know who you are, and to follow your own footprints through this strange existence.
It's all been like a peculiar dream. You quiver like a butterfly. The weather is heartless. You must have fifty times the heart in order to be free. The only thing you can do is take your strength into the world, and demand that it listens, Nikita. You can give the world a little piece of your heart, if you have enough of it to give. The world is waiting, an empty void, a man's mouth, a man's cock. It needs heart, it needs heart, it needs heart! So if you have enough to give, then please release it! Gallop your life through this world like an open pumping heart with its strange language of love. Every time you speak with your innocence still intact, you give the world a love song. So for crying out loud, Nikita, please cry out. The world is begging for a blowjob. Sing to its sad prick. Every human body is a green apple rolling from branches, is a heart pumping and travelling. You are the heartbeat of the globe, so give this globe a good strong heart. Take care of yourself, little woman, lovely girl. I've heard it pays to be as wild as lightning, adrift across this crazy lonely life like a kite. It's so crazy, interactive and complex. What next? I've heard it pays, and it pays well to make those little sacrifices, those compromises. You have to swallow a little bit of bad with the good. You have to become like the world just a little bit in order to understand its way, to navigate its terrain.
It's Nikita's second date with the army guy, or should I say AJ (army jerk). Without being rude, he's not that intelligent and a bit laid back. But she insisted that he was okay and at least it had been intimate. He was gentler than the shark-shagger and asked her some questions about herself. Nikita said, 'I love a man that can talk and one that can listen is even better!' This dating is a fool's game. It was the way we all judged each other in the beginning. It was mainly done through the fear of not being acceptable to ourselves or to the other person. It is best to pick faults in order keep us separate, so that we don't fall into the other personality and dissolve. Anyway, who was perfect?
Roxanne speaks: It was 8.15 p.m. on the night of the big snake lightning when Nikita began to pace the kitchen because he hadn't shown up. She had prepared herself by indulging in rose shampoo, a pink hairdryer, a rosy shirt, rose geranium oil and rouge passion polish. It was just the usual silly stuff that she normally liked. When in reality she was about to lay herself down like a doormat in front of him, for a little bit of a kicking, anything for affection. Oh Nikita! It wasn't even trust in this new guy tonight. It was this stupid innocence, this just knowing, complete confidence, an ease with humanity, faith in the universe when nothing deserved nothing. Here she was again, as pathetic as ever and alone, all dressed up and stood up. It wasn't even that she felt rejected. It's not as simple as that. Nikita was a gorgeous woman both inside and out. She knew that she was good enough. But she didn't understand why the world was unable to meet her face to face, in a hard handshake with an open heart. The shaky feeling that she was experiencing was brought on by confusion and something more sinister. She watched each car drive down the street in front of her house over the next fifteen, twenty, then forty-five minutes later. Each car's red taillights were a sunset that trail-blazed away into nothing, leaving this lost silence. |
