Shadow Dancer

I know that you can't see it now, but the silhouette you fell in love with is falling, just sweetly falling.

I can hear your voice - its harshness, like your rough hands creating little knots in my hair.
I can hear my voice - strident from weary strain, like a broken record - GO!

I'm dancing; you always loved to watch me. My coarse dancer feet are slowly being painted black from the earth's blood. The growing mud spreads like a heavenly cancer up my bare legs, stomach.

You should really do this sometime...

The cold Ohio rain is pouring down in this flooded meadow, but it doesn't seem to touch me.
I'm surrounded by a ribbon of light, calming quiet warmth that assures me that I won't be touched by the sky's harshness.
I'm still wet though. My furious? disgusted? hurt? tears moisten the dry skin of my face, gliding softly onto my chest despite my violent movements.

I fall onto the empty field, tired and naked and freezing, dementedly gazing up at the night sky with an unfelt smile.
Those faded dashes of light blasting their way through the clouds are intense, like muted rays of sunshine. They're little bubbles of sweet spring, full of pinks and golden yellows, dashing across the air in front of my eyes.
Some existent, some not.

I notice that none of the rain falls into my eyes.
Maybe it's not even there...

My camera lies next to my twisted figure, sputtering silent sparks. The screen has little ridges in it, a crack in the corner. Every picture I took just now of myself is slowly glitching away. The nude, muddy, wet photos of me are quietly screaming as they're ripped from the quiet comfort of my camera and slowly from my mind's flashing thoughts. Water trickles down into the shutter, into the broken bottom, creating a soundless chaos.

It isn't soundless... I just choose not to listen, not to hear my beloved camera die in this unceasing storm - whether imaginary or real.

The only thing I have left to prove that I exist is shattered and collapsing next to me out of my own sweet, voluntary negligence. What does that make me now?

You know I exist though, no matter how much you choose to ignore me.
I secretly wish you were my camera; then you would die with me, naked, in the rain, in a flooded field of tears and mud.

There you go, you go, go.. gooooo... goooooooooooooo...