Write About Me...

Write something about me. I don’t care what as long as it’s from you. I will not pay attention to your style or prose. I could care less whether you turn me in to a vile and common character or if I’m a badly made-up woman with fishnet stockings, albeit a little torn, with disproportionate breasts that carries the same yellow bag and never shaves her legs evenly reeking of cheap perfume. Or, just write thinking about me as if I were your goddess, your muse, your fetish hanging up on the wall. Imagine the glory of grazing my lips with your eyes closed and to know yourself to be slightly agitated with the excitement I provoke. Make it your mission to care for me for the rest of our lives. I want you to feel my resting exhale every night. Be my charming guardian angel and dress yourself in white in order not to draw attention to ourselves. Whisper an old story in my ear and stare, like an idiot, at me sleeping without wanting to make the slightest sound. Tend to my dreams. Don’t allow the beings under my bed to torment me...be my faithful slave. Ask yourself who is your happiness and then answer: “you”. Swear and vow yourself to never lose me and be with me until death do us part as those who marry tell each other. Be capable of murdering yourself and suiciding me at the same time, all for me. Make yourself a utopia and find it in my arms. Be mine. If you don’t want to, it’s fine. At least write about me. Write for me. Write thinking about me.

The train took longer than usual. I have a few of your writings. Too late; all I have left, now, is to give my pleas and supplications to a cold, gray tomb. I do, however, keep your writings…for you.


J-Lopez ( Dario Mariategui)

San Diego

05.14.2010