Kyle Muntz - Voices

Connection devoured us, if that was what you wanted to call it.

::::::::::::::::::::

My friend wanted me to go to a party. I went without caring what I wrote. Inside the lights were green blue red purple orange pink flaring. I wasn’t late enough for vomit to be involved. Maybe it was a dance, which would explain why so many people were dancing. Somebody passed me a drink. Somebody threw me a gesture. Wherever I was.

Parties are not a good place to meet people. We were all strangers here. I met her in the vest

ibule, which implies more things than one

(clavicle, cubicle, silvery dress the darkness

glint- none of those things) for whatever reason I did. But now I’m just repeating myself. Fuck time and place.

When it was with her, you didn’t need them anymore.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Do you want to dance?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, "yeah, I think I do, but I don’t think I want to leave."

We danced

if that was what you wanted to call it. Turbulent winds encircled us, and sense of shrouding,

not necessarily that which is known. To spin, we spun on axis. Her dress (she

was

wearing a dress) bared her shoulders to me, her slimness, a sense

of litheness and ebony clouds.

The rain

was pounding, a song kept playing and though we couldn’t feel it the wind kept blowing. Omnipotence embraced us, we were everywhere

and we were really there.

She was a beam of light capturing the moon, she was

a vicious intensity of sensation.

I danced with her in the moonlight.

With every breath

she was

beautiful.

Are you here alone? I asked.

Promise me

you won’t tell me your name.

I promise.

That’s not enough sometimes, just to promise. It’s okay, I’ve

forgotten

already. I’ve forgotten for you, just

to show

I care, in case you didn’t believe. Are you here

alone?

"Maybe I am," she said. "No, no I don’t think so." "Is it me?" I asked. "You don’t want me here?"

"No," she said, "if you want, you can stay." Hello (if

you greet me that

way, coming

from your lips,

it makes

me never

want

to

leave)

She smiled, and she embraced me.

I felt, by sorcery, we might

placate new murder, waving forward

and onto (a thunder)

embrace,

and I stayed.

If we’d been outside, we never would have left the r

a i

n. I

haven’t broken pages in quite a while. I guess that would make me inconsistent. I’m more things than one, and in being so many, I cancel myself. Sometimes I wonder if I trust myself to be consistent, the less in touch I get with myself, the more I fall out of a cycle of days (nights nights). That makes me wonder where I’m going, where I’ve been. There are

so many people in here it’s like I’m at war with a very large number of very evenly matched opponents. While in being so many, we cease to be at all.

::::::::::::::::::::

I’ve been hearing voices.

::::::::::::::::::::

James didn’t look so good. Sweat (the real kind, streaked with dirt) made rivers down him, a plastered glove. His shirt was torn. His eyes were fear. I’d never seen James fear before, especially not here in his element, where everyone knew him, where we were all together. There was a limp in his step. I bet he’d fallen.

"What’s up?" I asked, because there wasn’t much else I could say, not with him looking like this. But was it different this time, could I say? James knelt against the wall, as though the atmosphere wouldn’t put up with him anymore: sputtering incoherence, the scared kind, the grievous. Maybe, just maybe, he meant it to be language.

"Shit," he said, "they’re after me." (Without indication, without a basis in crime.) I asked who. This time I didn’t know. James knew when not to be liberal. He knew these streets like an old, dry bone.

"I’m not sure," he said, "but they’re scary, and they’re big."

"Are they still coming?"

"I’m not sure," he said. "Maybe I lost them. I knew I’d find you here." He

glanced back to my mural, my grand great escape, plastered to the wall above, beside, my little unnatural world. No one had seen it. I’d never been here before either. I have no idea how he found me.

"Can you help?" he asked.

"I can do my best," I said. "Is there anywhere safe?"

"Not here."

"Then maybe they can find this. Should I write them a message?" "Do you think they’d understand?"

"No… no I don’t think so."

"Then let's just go."

::::::::::::::::::::

I looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t there, but it was something like I was. I saw myself, I believed. He had my face, my arms, my legs. He moved when I moved, looking back at me. But sometimes I couldn’t keep track, thinking that was me, in reflection, seeing myself in the immaterial, falling into circles of misrepresentation.

It made me feel like less than myself, like many. It was frightening. The heavens

fed me darkness, but the water was smooth. All off and into the distance, it was

smooth, only rippling where I moved. Way in the distance, the bottom lit up, a gentle glowing, above the water. The stars, glinting and reflecting, were

there with me, and my world was a reflection of the sky,

little bulbs of whiteness, waving in the mirror.

Maybe, if I kept walking, I could go somewhere. Footfalls on unmoving waves.

Down below there might have been a current.

They came for us on the streets. They were scary. James saw them, fearing. They made it difficult to run, but did I fear them? They were negative vibes and testosterone danger, but did I fear them? We ran. I’m not sure why he wanted my help when all we could do was run.

Monsters followed us.

Or not exactly monsters, but I couldn’t bring myself to describe them. They were bigger than us, and they wore skin, but they didn’t smell right, and they only had one eye. James, a few steps ahead, pushed an old lady out of the way, running through an intersection. I followed. Chaotic streams en-circled us. I almost fell, and I barely managed to get through alive. James turned into an alley and almost broke his ankle in the process.

When I saw them I understood (immediately). James had bad karma (the worst). He’d referred to them in plural. I equalized. I’ve never been fond of taking burdens, but I suppose it must have been unavoidable. I’m good at being (something) like a friend.

"You know," I said, "they’re never going to stop chasing you. They’re slower than us, but they’re stronger, and they don’t have to think like the city. They can break through walls."

"It doesn’t matter."

"Dude, I’m sorry, I don’t think I believe you."

"It’s okay," he said, "just run with me for a while. We’ll think of something."

"Do you have a hydrogen bomb?"

"If I did, it probably wouldn’t do us any good."

::::::::::::::::::::

Of course, they didn’t have any problem getting through the intersection. They could go through cars just as easy as walls.

::::::::::::::::::::

We stopped, breathing hard, and came to rest in another part of the city. It was gray down here, and old. There were ghosts here (the real kind) and they were real too, almost enough that you could touch them. Withered, musty, they sat weakly in twos, in threes, to sing forgotten songs and play joyless old games. I couldn’t tell if they’d always been there, or if they were just making appearances for our sake. James leaned against the wall, vivaciously alive like me. We were antigens here, in the freezer. Jealousy spun