HOME | DD

Description
I think it's time I told you.
Because I think it's time you knew.
I'm a slightly talented human being,
and proud of it too.

I can fly. I've flown to the other side of the world. I've flown home. Over the Pacific, time treats you differently. The sun does not set; it either melts slowly into the clouds, till they are coloured gold and red, or it snaps out of existence. It's a beautiful thing though; the sun over the Pacific.

I can turn invisible. People talk when I'm invisible. They talk about girl's secretly swelling bellies, men's privately petty lusts and everyone's unadmitted fascination with themselves. When I'm invisible I hear rudimentary tales. I tell them again, better. I'm a compulsive liar.

I can use mind control. A week. A want. A taste. An alien sister of love. Or is it love? Another taste; sweat, leather and toothpaste. Lips are not sweet, but they are best shared. A suggested goal and another kiss to make it so. It's a curious thing; I can use mind control on myself.

I can stop time. Twenty four times a second. A hundred and fifty minutes each time. Some cameras fit snug and cool into hand. Others latch defiantly, heavy and hard, onto shoulder. Tripods hold a shot steady. Film feeds onto computers. Editing software. I fix time.

I can predict the future. Salt thick in the air. I foresee a wave, and it rolls up the beach. I guess another and it does so again. We try to sneak around, to waddle through the waters. Sea gushes deeper than expected. Perfume of man is washed away by the smell of the tide. I'm perhaps not the best seer.

I hope to get to know you,
and your talents too.

Description
I think it's time I told you.
Because I think it's time you knew.
I'm a slightly talented human being,
and proud of it too.

I can fly. I've flown to the other side of the world. I've flown home. Over the Pacific, time treats you differently. The sun does not set; it either melts slowly into the clouds, till they are coloured gold and red, or it snaps out of existence. It's a beautiful thing though; the sun over the Pacific.

I can turn invisible. People talk when I'm invisible. They talk about girl's secretly swelling bellies, men's privately petty lusts and everyone's unadmitted fascination with themselves. When I'm invisible I hear rudimentary tales. I tell them again, better. I'm a compulsive liar.

I can use mind control. A week. A want. A taste. An alien sister of love. Or is it love? Another taste; sweat, leather and toothpaste. Lips are not sweet, but they are best shared. A suggested goal and another kiss to make it so. It's a curious thing; I can use mind control on myself.

I can stop time. Twenty four times a second. A hundred and fifty minutes each time. Some cameras fit snug and cool into hand. Others latch defiantly, heavy and hard, onto shoulder. Tripods hold a shot steady. Film feeds onto computers. Editing software. I fix time.

I can predict the future. Salt thick in the air. I foresee a wave, and it rolls up the beach. I guess another and it does so again. We try to sneak around, to waddle through the waters. Sea gushes deeper than expected. Perfume of man is washed away by the smell of the tide. I'm perhaps not the best seer.

I hope to get to know you,
and your talents too.