who
You trouble me, boy, where do you wander?
I felt your sheet, cold cottons
it stared me in the face as I asked it to love me
Did I do that for you?
Stare you down my narrow hallway
Into my dream world
that room filled with color
and nobody knows you in there
Not even I, or me, or she
Or we, if it were to be
Me and you sitting there
Drowning in happiness
Cakes and spices filling our mouths
in between bursts of tongue
spit and teeth grinding
hardcore to my heart beat
I could take you there in my
own spaceship built for
you, my inner architecture;
a sculpture to myself.
moon sun shadow
Open laid bedsheets, crinkling aesthetic, with its bone marrow grease; its filthy absorbent, patchy quilt feathers.
You glow at me as I ripen my tendrils, plumping them up, sewn into an apple which I gave to you thru a simple kiss.
These days are numbered, she said; I opened my pages, the start is always a beginning, the end a far memory, never wanting to begone. Yet, I begot her there, cringing face muscles atrophy.
You knew, always, to give me a drama; my play always so sickening, my chorus for my own song, never ending.
I watch our brethren bathing under starlight, escaping age and believing they are light shadows, capable of playing dog.
With monster bear-crocodilian stare; and a murderous appetite for their own destruction. Poor creatures, purest featureless…
And, Welcome to the midnight sun! reversely inverted on the pale moon dawn.
Hey girl, did you hear? Nighttime kills if you have no poison, so drink it slowly…it’s a tasty solvent.
……
aeil line mints ov the farh reeching in cap sule late id pear ills ov dime menstrual trave el waynes en ahn üt, ahs ae bread tith ov free ssh error
Alliterative writings for nobody and no reason but to do it.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009 at 3:19pm | Edit Note | Delete
They were all moving like centipedes; I rushed quickly through them and my feet cracked; it was aright though, I knew I was old before I was young. The molasses thickened around the insects, it wasn’t keeping me. I had places to be, or at least, I thought I did. The truth was I had nowhere and nothing to go to or look forward to. I was a walking speed train going nowhere.
My interpretation of the concrete pileups were transfigured into a sort of demented surge of my dream memories and my real ones. I never really knew which I was in, and never looked to get out either. I could have cared less about which reality was the truth, as I had made myself believe mine was better. And it was.
Leaves on the ground remind me of my perfect city. It was somewhere between the north east America and places throughout Europe; although I hated Europe with a passion, I liked its antique spectaculars. Note to self, throughout this statement, try not to refer to yourself in another form of reference. Like, say what you want instead of what you mean. That way when people read it they can’t decipher if you are talking to yourself or not.
I took the air to mean that subliminal messages were transpiring somewhere far above the nimbus and the radioactivity. I took the messages as cyphers for myself, and only to ward me off from potential hazards. They never did really speak my language though, and I could tell I was losing more than I was gaining. It was necessary for my final unintended intentions. Which were, I don’t know. I never knew. That was my intentions.
You say things I don’t hear but scream them when I’m not listening.
Blocks made out of wood, black and hurt and stained. Teeth biting gritty glass and your hand is bleeding. Drape over me a furnace of heart.
Giving right hand towards the sun, it and I are held within you. Between sheets of sex and rough, it comes to and blackbirds scream. Pies on windowsills even enough to feed me too.
I came and ate all her capers. I mixed them with nuts. We frosted our eyes and curdled milk for shakes. I gave her an undying amount of seriousness.
I could never cure my illness. It ate at me, and I gave it nurse. I will kiss it when its empty but when its awake I strangle. Believe me when I say it was all with best intentions.
Shaken, firelights and flies, they gather. On the moth stained pond the glass, eager to lap at them, beats my window to it. I crave attention.
You couldn’t mind me when I said let it hurt you. Tigress was not at all pleased and I could tell when she bit me. Bleeding through my shirt, and soaking, beet red in the white, gurgled and coughed my last breath.
I secrete madness and open wounds heal with maggots. I give them my soul to devour, wholly and faithful; akin to a new beginning. I never let it down but never remember. Doing it again and again, I run towards my breathing mouth to kiss her. And we die together in our minds, our eyes set upon loneliness. I am alone here in this metaphor. Can you tell?
She wafted in the door, always open but forcing through. I kept my eyes on you, daring not to pass the casket on my left without another glance.
Yesterday you were showing me pictures in a magazine, telling me how we could be gone and nothing would be left to have seen us.
I tell you these things, they aren’t always, as you or I or them, but fragments to a whole piece of nothing worth mentioning.
Go to it, keep it there, on your earth of shame, the mountain of gravel embedding molten lead.
I see you, watching, while you slip away. The doorway is opening but again I can’t squeeze. I sing to lonely mischiefs and carry solaced entrance, I deftly carry sway to you and your meager ways.
Like Ive Been
Fuzzy, stark, breeching the gaps my mind won’t flow in.
Those empty rivers, the gasping night
Takes its time tonight and every night.
Towards solar flames behind the eye
of an Isis bird or Osiris, his plight;
river edge demons pass,
blue lips against white.
def arent waig
Disintegrating time twitching, motion blurry eyed,
Breathing hurried, help release me I’m numb.
Questioning marbled globes, these whims of meticulous rests,
Stopping only to quiver, staring blank as slate
Of something hoping to keep me
Locked in a cage of guilt
Pleasures, then, guilty still but not without pain
to kick away the boundaries of prisoners dens
Bathing in warm light, opening up flesh wounds
I crave to be held by nothing and grasped more.
Tether light leather bandage
for beings close to and around me,
tell them I’m dead, and to go feed on the living.
We are all outnumbered by our own isolated feelings.
