jasonvalley

[jasonvalley]

It shined in the light of an empty lot. We used to sit on the parking bumpers after school let out. Izzy wasn't afraid of heights like I'd been. Izzy would peak over the concrete ledge often, looking down at our peers. We shared a bond over the metal we held daily. We carved lost letters into glass, in which have possibly shattered by now. We would waltz through the room that has since been gutted. I'd step foot into that room once more before the world would shutdown for two weeks. I spoke to none of the moment. I stood in the same place that I held my bloody mouth shut. My palms filled as I ran out of the room. Izzy spoke to me moments before I walked out of the building. I sensed a calmness.

[jasonvalley]

Izzy cut my hands with scissors when we were young. I gave some another name for many years to mend the pain. Around the age when Izzy would hide under a stairwell to pull at my ankles. I ran down the stairs in my adolescence because I always felt that Izzy was still there, waiting for me. Even though I knew I'd be frightened, I sometimes wished that Izzy would still be there. Even if it was just to give me a scare.

[jasonvalley]

Izzy and I would stand on the swing sets often. Blocks away from a void we'd frequent. We'd collect the leaves in our shoes while we stomped on stars. Izzy told me not to worry for them that be afraid of the dark. I still do. Ever so often, even at the distance of waves. Izzy told me years later about clawing at waters. I learned not to hear it for far too long. I see you in my dreams. I held moments of it throughout my life. Pleads of calling out to me. Listening again I recall the rough gravel dust we'd breathe in on our late walks. It's almost as if you're still here. I saw a light in a window once. I thought to myself that you were still there. There are those in my life I wish I wish I'd spoken of you about. I convinced myself to bury those memories unto bedrock. But I do today as I once did, notice you. I still hold onto a dagger in remembrance of you.

[jasonvalley]

Karru Marri Odonna Loma Molonu Karrano

[jasonvalley]

we used to meet here. i remember the burned CDs you once held close. scribbled with inks that bled on your palms. we'd crawl into the abyss where whispers stayed within thin air.

[jasonvalley]

Izzy told me there's an incredible amount of pain. It has been harvested. Cradled to the core of this earth. Held to pain. I've been suggesting to return as soon as possible to gather stones laid before the waters. Toil has persevered at recent moons. I've neared the breaking points where Izzy and I would meet. Below the rust, I've carried onwards.

[jasonvalley]

Izzy showed me how to burn holes into the world when i was eleven. Porcelain to flesh cradles repetitions of pulsing valves. The heart lays on aggregate. My friend fell on this road once before. I pulled him up with bloody palms. Like when id slam the bathroom door with a string to a tooth. The tooth fairy pulled up to my room once. Shook me until I feared endlessness. I bare witness to those that balance on the cross fences between Ogden and *. Izzy fell off with a scrape to a knee. Dust and dirt packed into a wound. As done to one another on a frequent basis. Izzy drowned into a couch once. Told me how easy it is to hide within walls. Getting warmer, so I've been told.

[jasonvalley]

we used to sit on your roof

[jasonvalley]

it is possible that i had first met Izzy at haunted trails when i was six. i remember the mask of a black cat. i am starting to worry about this. this realm is not something easily surpassed in this dimension. porcelain to flesh. porcelain to flesh. porcelain to flesh.

[jasonvalley]

izzy pulled strings. we will meet again in a week or so. i will watch the drift wood pass me by. i will see the drains into the waters. where izzy smiled back at me with a bloody lip. where we dragged our friend up the hills, over a snake, through the leaves. denim snagged against the stones. how i wish i still had those missing items. i thought there would be no trace of izzy for most of my life. but those places are still there. izzy told me everything is going to be ok once. it was in the shade of a building that was demolished. in front of an intersection where glass had laid with strains and streaks of light. is it normal? it's as if parts of then were removed, almost a complete disappearance. i am nearing the place where there be signs of rust under the land. close to the waters. am i to be like izzy? reminders in light and time. treding in eights. yearning for a glimpse once again of whom i'd charish in silence. to the lack of acknowledgement of ones be that close. am i to lay a heart upon there?

[jasonvalley]

It was a bit more real then, don't you think? In comparison of what you now have and will lose. Those memories linger on. Like leeches against flesh. Rattled to the core of your ribs once again. It's still there, on a pavement in the Midwest. To lay a heart upon the lots there. The talk we shared at that park in middle school. I remember it like a glimmer of light.

[jasonvalley]

[jasonvalley]

Thinking back now, I always knew what I would have to do. Onto remedies of what senses you could fall into. Choking on the pavement floor I've seem to send into a state. Fault of an own to carry all in every word of my own vein. Sinking back into the past I drain into the pouring rain. Strains of emptiness are calling and screeching out my name. Izzy pleaded through the lights of one can hear without a sound. Feeling bored, I'm called upon to reach out soon or then to now. Muddy mess within the trees is where you always seemed to be. I see you again, I know in life you'd always sing to me.

[jasonvalley]

[jasonvalley]

Izzy asked a favor on Wednesday. I must go back to a few places we used to meet. It's misty there this time of year, but I'm ambitious to do so. I truly don't know how to swim, so I can't get too close to the waters. I must tred carefully. I had a friend from then who didn't meet Izzy. I don't think most people in my life had to be honest. I rarely spoke of Izzy to anyone after those events. Tell me, do you move in threes as I once did? Us, balancing on the fences near the tracks. We're still there.

[jasonvalley]

Izzy tried to tell me something extremely important when i was about eleven. i'd taken a photo of izzy under the fluorescent tubes as they flickered ever so often. how to move in eights in order to levitate had been carved into skin, scrapes from a rock. The debris pushed into thy eye by the thumbs of a friend. Tolled the room of where they left them. Careful where you step. The glass collected within a jaw can only lift the words that tred in threes. Trust me, I would know.

01110011 01110100 01101001 01100011 01101011 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01110011 01110100 01101111 01101110 01100101 011100110100001000100110101000100100011011000010101101101001111110001001

[jasonvalley]