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music |
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explosions in the sky | six days at the bottom of the ocean |
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most written last yr, some last night. all deeply personal. to be added to, in time...
esc.
i truly believe[d] we'd stay
together always & burn-
out anonymous & beautiful
like two shooting stars
swallowing up the sky
undercover of daytime
razzorr
i'm torn between nursing a disappearing scar, almost gone. taking a clean sharp razor-blade, making a fresh incision right along the old one.
superglue
-mobile phone
-e-mail
-instant message
-fax machine
-livejournal
-carrier pigeon
-smoke signals
the more ways
we find to
communicate
the lonelier
we become
fornever
after two years & several months
what i remember of
her face & legs could
fill volumes,
what i have forgotten,
graveyards.
Dec 8 1943
we all forget Jim Morrison's birthday - everywhere except Paris, who hasn't moved on and spent the day locked away, soaking in yesterday's bathwater.
optimisto
i was born into the world on a rainy tuesday morning in late october 1981 and i'll die alone, in a dark house in the summer of 2007.
& her shoelaces [for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) inutilezas]
i'd hire a plane and write "i love you" across the sky in the fluffiest red, but you're always looking at your shoelaces.
stamps
she sends me pieces / of herself / in an envelope / not fingers and hair / but pictures of oceans / found treasure & / her frilly underwear.
tulips [for two lips]
she dribbles a smile, as i watch her tiny feet bickering beneath the covers. sometimes i swear i know exactly what she's dreaming.
writing in the sand
alone
on my small square of beach
squinting, castaway
recalling the curve of your eyelids
each one blinking like the tide
rushing, receding
crash into me
this endless rain was finally slowing and the sky was receiving the colour back into its pallid cheeks, then i heard her song...
pause
he licks her armpits before they kiss. on his lips tastes sweat, reminding her of labouring so long for a love like this.
the hidden
she asks, why write tiny poems and not epics? i tell her, for the same reason you're my fuckbuddy and not my girlfriend.
mystery girl
to the young redhead whose life overlapped mine for a few shared glances this morning, who smiled like tiny suns and was gone.
cigarsucker
i read about Saddam & his alleged weapons of mass-destruction. i long for simpler times, such as Clinton & his weapon of mass-seduction.
23nerds [for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) 23words]
once i dreamt i was boatmusic with no words, an oyster with anteriority, a heddcold with no pain, an orkid with no petals.
dollface
porcelain dolls hidden deepin disguise, only given away by the greyest angel dust eyes. for lies, pull the chord on her back.
cling-on
when i said goodbye
she screamed
"you barbed wire hearted liar"
this is a normal reaction
remember to never look back, my friend.
girl [in the flesh]
more beautiful than the marriage of sun and rain is the curvature of your neck and shoulders, your skin slips away into itself.
worrywort
she has this lumpy throbbing in her chest, behind her left breast. cancer runs in the family, as does hypochondria and blatant stupidity.
folie á deux
she neglects her piano.
she plays her gameboys
till they run out of batteries,
till she herself is a blank screen.
closure
close er
a glass stuck
to a coaster.
scallywag
bra-less white t-shirt, she was like a ballerina twirling on high heels, her nipples smiling at me.
condenser
i held your hairback while you threw up six dozen failed relationships. she's going to puke on my hush puppies, i thought.
( alt. longer version )
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