10/5/07 10:27 am - everythingisso i tried to transfer what was in my heartto a scrap of paper the words were stuck in my chestnow you can see through the holes in my heart_________________________________________some stars shine so brightthat they only last half as longthis is what you said to metrying to be comfortingexplaining away how much you think i've fadedwhat about the stars that are primed to explodeand take out every one with them?_________________________________people can't take good pictures of mei'm not still enough to be prettytoo fast to be caught
11/7/06 02:56 pm - nonbeing - to whom are you talking? all our speech is prayer. desperate questions, uncertain commands, fallible propositions, all searching-- whether tacitly or explicitly-- for approval and validation from a divine and absolute arbiter. rarely are our words clarified for us by the silent ears upon which they fall; does this imply they are also deaf?
8/20/06 07:08 pm - lipstickletters I have some cute user pix for yer site here... do scan mine... I'm sure you'll love 'em... Dood... rite now my mind is blank. And I'm sure the seat of my pants sure does stank. Haven't bathes in days, Everything's in a haze, Feel like I've gotta walk the streets with a shank.Gotta go, rides here...
4/28/06 02:41 am - everythingisso 4-28-2006mirrors lie to youand you can't seewhat we all know.look into my eyesuse them as a mirror to your soul
4/10/06 10:05 am - nonbeing I hate when they say"It's a beautiful day!"Though the sky is crystal clearThere is something it lacksAnd it might as well be blackFor all the good it does meBecause the sky doesn't care
1/27/06 01:40 am - optimus_rhyme - new, from a slam So, someone wrote your name on the stall in the bathroom.Fat black graffitti love scrawlconspicuously placed at my eye level.I paused, to consider, came away concerned becauseI don’t drink enough here to have done it myself,I’m too poor for that kind of forgetting right now, all mypublic vandal drunk starts at homewith a 9 dollar handle and a bad idea, besides, its not like I need reminders,I bring a book of them.So I’m hoping this four letter forget-you-not is a different flowerAnd a different sweetThat this guy's tagging your namesake against the bathroom wallOf my favorite barAnd not you.Two-fold fear for sure,because I get so jealous itsridiculous; I’m not level, Love, when its comes to same with youor whatever it is that we’re in...Were in, sorry.and because I don’t want someone elsesome poor soul set of eyesunaprised of the situation,getting involved in somethinghe’ll regret.Or worse, getting into someonewho’ll regret him
1/17/06 12:43 am - everythingisso he looks me in the eyes(and i fall in)and licks his lipsbefore kissing meas if i were preyhypnotizedas if he were a cathungryfor how i taste.stunnedalways mesmerizedi offer no resistanceand am devoured.
12/15/05 03:29 am - everythingisso i don't get paidfor the things that i thinkand i can't get awaywith the things that i sayso i eat my heartlike i swallow my wordsand i try to makeevery flavor last
| | 11/25/05 03:12 pm - raccoon171 the songs of whales,and definitely bottled dandelionfloating in the hazel eyes of wil's brother who thinks in hexagons and fridaysand other determinedly beautiful co ordinationsthey brought together are by marshmallows and the spice of pumpkin piecharlie brownallergiesand repeating oneselfbrought together by the strangest, most excellent things,redefining love vanilla and shaking treesroses, windowsgratitude and all my love to the hazel-eyed brothers of acquaintanceson this tonight of petal-flavored phone calls and cranberries on the tableclothcharlie brownallergiesand repeating oneselfon this together-scented day of always |
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| | 11/11/05 03:26 am - cailleach_sidhe - I feel like I should revise before I post in here, but if I thought about it I wouldn't do it On the fifth floor of the university libraryin a blind cubbyby the windowsitting in it now,I see the insideblocking the outsidea symmetrical ‘A’a backward ‘B’denoting the location of textsordered by the Dewey Decimal Systemon ugly not-quite yellow stackslit by ticking timersso loud in the resounding library sh-hhh.I came up here to see the roofsof the real city buildingsto see the real cityand real buildingswith the sun still yellowbut about to set behind them;I climbed three flights of stairsfrom the aesthetically curious raised entranceto see some truthto see something that was trueto the man who made me crywith words of hopewho made me anxiouswith his dislike of my privilegewho says, “working class” with prideemanating from his ample bellyand projected across the roomacross time and spaceacross the highly structured compartments of my heartliberating my love andadding weight to my minduntil my wallet grew darkand pulled on my pursetearing fabric from my blouse and leaving me exposedpale and soft and slightuptight hair, the lively curls pinned backmaking an unintended statementabout preferring death to entropyand I can’t speak to AJbecause my words are not as real.I try to say that his poetry has moved meand it is he who explainsabout his mother’s love.I say to thank her for me,then realize that she is probably deadexcept in his heart, where I have no business leaving messages. I am so confusedto see this man,and to hear him,with this bunch of lousy and pretentious prickswho speak with affectations andare far worse than I am;if he can love them thenhe can love mebut will he love me?and can Ilove him?Can I say love and mean loveor do I have to explainand qualify and beat to deathwhat he can say and have be understood?and I would like to blame this all on Basil Bernsteinor on what he knows to be trueor on my parents, for not teaching methe language that each of them half-knewlong, long ago. but I never wanted to listen.And the rooftops of Main South are made of goldat the farthest points on the horizonand the athletic center roof is white,the dorms are black,the lower levels of the library are covered with loose stonesthat may well kill us someday. I like to come up hereand read old books, and new onesI like to climb up all these stairsto test my lungs, my heart, my bodyto see if I am still as young and quick as I wasyesterday, if I am still the youngest and the quickestof us here, but I must sayalthough I like the stairsI do not like the floorswhich block my viewof everything I did and sawon the way up to this windowwhere the gold is far away and the rocks are bound to fall. |
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everythingisso i tried to transfer what was in my heartto a scrap of paper the words were stuck in my chestnow you can see through the holes in my heart_________________________________________some stars shine so brightthat they only last half as longthis is what you said to metrying to be comfortingexplaining away how much you think i've fadedwhat about the stars that are primed to explodeand take out every one with them?_________________________________people can't take good pictures of mei'm not still enough to be prettytoo fast to be caught