March 2010
39 posts
your smile, breaks, earthquake. quiet, close. against mine. a moment followed by a laugh. kiss your smile. arms covered in scars, a lot like stars. trace constellations onto your skin, and into the sheets. a fire burning, teenage yearning. cold nights, watch the moon grow old and swing to the right. and you’re still there. and you’re still smiling. all the small things. the red...
“she knows the way into her boy’s heart is through his ears, with whispered...”
“poster child. torn at the seams.”
love the way that expensive clothes hang from teenaged bones. the way gold chains drip, heavy, draw back with empty breaths. short, expanding. like the streetlights in the fog. orange stars exploding in the wet air. wet lips, traced with a tongue. drive the whole world crazy. i’m pretty and they like me. and thats enough. you love the way they love me. love the they way eat me. drink me. you still...
“proud of me, yet?”
wake up early. i can’t help it. there’s a time in the morning where i start to miss you. a designated time. and then i’m moving. quickly. a million different motions. here and there. a lot like everywhere. different faces, open spaces. and all i want is yours. i don’t know how many times i can say that before the meaning is obsolete. long past due. i’ve run out of...
early morning. you, stretched out, straddled across my back. cold hands. tiny fingers. tracing lines, and shapes, and words and thoughts into the skin on my back. following the arc of my spine, to the base of my neck, and back, down to the loose fabric of my half-buttoned jeans. knots in my back that spell out the words that rattle, heavy in my empty head. pretty words that remind me of you....
“the fortune cookies & the neverending weekdays”
“tomorrow is busy getting ready for yesterday’s funeral.”
“all the pretty things are going to hell”
“i’m drowning. so come inside. welcome to my filthy mind.”
hanging, lonely out the back seat window. i can feel it in my veins. my bones. in my father’s clothes. a head rush. a happiness. only for a little while. did you ever get that? driving down some deserted highway, light-years above the speed limit. and i’m not even in my own body anymore. light headed, empty minded. getting lost in my father’s seams, childhood dreams. and here,...
“highly reflective. slightly subjective.”
“blood to the dirt. hit the ground. hollow sound. like a million dying crickets....”
1 tag
your face is your perfect house. picket fence smile and neatly shuttered eyes. wrinkling at the edges. “look at you, kid, you’re crazy.” i’m highly reflective, and slightly subjective. i know how this goes. do you know what i’m saying? the times when you decide tell me i’m dying are moving closer together. occurring more frequently. my head is spinning trying to...
