freefall is a section in weight of words for masturbatory, practice writing, random quotes and pieces of poetry. similar to a tattoo where an artist sketches an outline first before the very illustration, freefall is an outline of either beautiful or monstrous sets of words to come.
no one and nothing exists except...(edvard munch's the kiss)
A PHONE CONVERSATION
“hi. it’s me. save this. it’s my second mobile number.”
“wow, new number. why’d you get a new SIM?”
nothing much, it’s just that you have a SIM card from the same network. i decided to get one, too. maybe, you’d call me once or twice a day to say hi, instead of just once a week to consult me for projects.
“cos my siblings have SIM cards from the same network.”
“oh. i thought you got one because of me. kiddiiiiing..”
you’re right, actually. you are the only one who can drive my miser self to spend money on this, to waste paper just to write your name in different font styles. your face is the last image i see before i sleep. this coming from someone who gets nightmares every night. i still get nightmares, though, but when i wake up, your face is the first one that pops up, and my nightmares slink away.
“duh. like i’d waste time calling you.”
“but you were the one who called me just now!”
because having your voice at the other end of the line already feels like a lingering kiss.
“because i need my art film collection back! it’s been with you for six months, and i’ve been dying to watch adaptation for the third time. i should charge you, like they do at VCT.”
“sorry na! will return your collection tomorrow. that all right with you?”
just drop by my house with or without my art films. they can stay with you for as long as you like. just stay with me for as long as i like.
“what time will you drop by? i might have a thing tomorrow.”
“oh. i see. you have a date?”
with you, in my fantasies: i think about them during breaks, at meetings with clients, during shuttle ride to and from my work place, even at my trips to the water dispenser.
“not really. i’m not sure what’s up, anyway. guys suck at signals, so i’m just coasting along.”
i hope you don’t hear my heart pounding so loud. my mom will kill me if i shatter her glass figurines.
“since when did you start minding my love affairs?”
“was thinking of setting you up with a friend. you met him at chris’s party.”
“no, thanks. i’m not interested in hand-me-downs from you.”
“your call. just don’t blame me if you end up an old maid.”
“you’re lousy. i have to go.”
i am still here, on this very spot, where your voice rings pure and strong.