In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses.
Isaac MarionOf course, if I eat all of him, if I spare his brain, he'll rise up and follow me back to the airport, and that might make feel better. I'll introduce him to everyone, and maybe we'll stand around and groan for a while. It's hard to say what 'friends' are any more, but that might be close.
Isaac MarionI'm watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don't deserve them. Her warm memories. I'd like to paint them over the bare plaster walls of my soul, but everything I paint seems to peel.
Isaac MarionTag: zombies
Are we all just Dark Age doctors, swearing by our leeches? We crave a greater science. We want to be proven wrong.
Isaac MarionTag: zombies
I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread.
Isaac MarionTag: infatuation
...and we'll see what happens when we say Yes while this rigor mortis world screams No.
Isaac MarionTag: inspirational hope rebellion hopeful zombies anti-mainstream rebellious
The sports arena Julie calls home is unaccountably large, perhaps one of those dual-event 'super venues' built for an era when the greatest quandary facing the world was where to put all the parties.
Isaac MarionWe smile, because this is how we save the world.
Isaac MarionI find a grin spreading across my face. I don't know what I'm doing, how I'm doing it, or what will happen when it's done, but at the very bottom of this rising siege-ladder, I at least know I'm going to see Julie again. I know I'm not going to say goodbye. And if these staggering refugees want to help, if they think they see something bigger here than a boy chasing a girl, then they can help, and we'll see what happens when we say Yes while this rigor mortis world screams No.
We start lumbering north on the southbound freeway, and the thunder drifts away towards the mountains as if it's scared of us.
Here we are on the road. We must be going somewhere.
It frustrates and fascinates me that we'll never know for sure, that despite the best efforts of historians and scientists and poets, there are some things we'll just never know. What the first song sounded like. How it felt to see the first photograph. Who kissed the first kiss, and if it was any good.
Isaac MarionTag: history the-unknowable
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