pneuma

And the skin nature had flayed offered her places to stay. Sometimes the skin was like her own, with the arteries almost visible in the thin ceiling. Large sheets of white was to be found here and there and spoke of visitors from above. She felt a throbbing in the soil, and she shook violently when the rock began to rise from the ground, whereupon a large mountain began to be perceptible. She took hold with her feet in the rock/mountain-side, and the clouds were soon far beneath her. She had reached a point where the sky was especially dark violet, and a thin, lacy mist was caressing the landscape beneath. Scarcely a sound was heard, except a couple of distant wings. An eagle could be seen far away, and the closer it got, the more visible a human man's scary face came to be on the animal body. From its eyes ran something looking like blood, and the animal had a loud scream that seemed to be waiting in the air, because it had not been heard yet. 

She opens her mouth to speak to the animal, but suddenly becomes shy of her obscene attire. The animal shakes his head.
”It is exactly in its right.” 
Whereupon she exhales and attempts to smile, but the animal continues:
”But there is hardly any need for excuses. Is there anything else she can share? And do not smile like that.”
Stiff as a poker she is, shaking side by side, suddenly aware of how high up she is in the air. What if she falls down? And now something is falling from the sky - tadpoles? Looking closely, it turns out to be ashes and now the bird is smiling.

”I am the fire.”

And she is now trying to fix her gaze in his, desperately, but there are no eyes to see into, but two keyholes. When she looks down at her hands, she sees that they've turned into two keys, and she lifts them to the eyes. When she is pressing them against the eyes, something happens: the scream she waited for before rises from the falling ash and the bird flares up in an aggressive but beautiful crimson flame. She is pulled into the fire, but she does not seem to burn up; it's as if the fire merely lick her arms with its flame. 

”Give in!"
And now it sounds like the whole mountain is speaking to her:
"Give in! It was meant to burn, do not worry about the cage!"
And she closes her eyes and feels how she is now swimming in something soft, but heavy, and she realizes that she has died. But that death has not yet taken her all the way, and that there are still parts left.

Och så är sanningen.

P.
Du önskar mig inte mer och jag önskar dig inte heller, 
men lika mycket som att dessa ord är 100% dina
är de 100% mina minnen av det sista jag lät mig
förföras av, av dig. Det har varit svindlande tider. 
Jag kommer alltid att vara tacksam.
Nu är allt över. Adjö.

När det kommer till att återvända är jag dålig. Dåligast. Den dåligaste i det hela stora. När det handlar om att komma hem (hem?) händer det någonting i min kropp och i min mun, jag förlorar talförmågan under mikrosekunder och vrickar foten i asfaltsbacken utanför. Som slime som kastats mot en vägg i ett barnrum, som tuggummi och som torrt gummiband som sträckts ut men som inte riktigt dragits samman (och som aldrig heller tar tillfället att göra det), tappar jag någonting. Det finns ingen tid att vänta på andan och det finns ingen fikapaus klockan 15.00, 15.30, 15.45. Som slime som snurrar runt med en handformad svans som aldrig riktigt hänger med, den delen som aldrig ens fastnade på kylskåpet trots världsövermäktig kraft i barnarmarna - subjektivt betraktat. Objektivt sett ser det mer ut som lindrig apraxi, om det ens syns. Det är fascinerande hur jag varje gång lyckas förlora viljan någonstans mellan Uppsala och Gävle, samtidigt som jag aldrig uppfattar när eller hur den mellan varven återvänder till mig. Gröna strängar av saliv växer sig större i mungiporna allt eftersom jag arbetar med min dysartri, och snart formar jag försiktigt en cylinder av dem i munnen. Kysser den lika innerligt som jag önskar att du ville mig igen, låter den vila mellan tunga och gom försiktigt. Varför skulle jag någonsin tro att det är enkelt att återvända till det här? Jag undrar, och sväljer sedan slime-cylindern tillsammans med min vassa längtan och rivande lust.