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[24 Apr 2004|01:54am] |
i've already written a happily-ever-after, touched up and repackaged hollywood style.
tonight i could feel every air molecule that hit my skin, the vein in your hand as laughter cushioned the weight of inevitable awkwardness.
all of us sat in the dark and my tears were bittersweet when she said, "why don't you stay this time?"
we were miles apart and you laughed at all the wrong things.
--end--
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(Got something to say, punk?!)
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[22 Apr 2004|07:35pm] |
it's the end of an eon and she can see the indecision reflected in his face as he laughs,
a tremor that winds its way unsteadily to the edge of the world before bouncing back.
tracing patterns of phosphorescence, they clung to corners and to the passive familiarity that had never failed them before.
instead of her breathing all she can hear is the roaring in her ears, the hitch in her throat as she swallows.
soon all these tangibles will be replaced - old-growth never survives for long.
they talked for miles over and around heartaches and he picked skeletons of dandelions that somehow seemed to fit the moment.
and, then the sun came out and they saw that they were not black and white after all.
they both turned, because they forgot that there wasn't anyone in the wings, and hoped for a cue, or a camera to focus upon, like a pinhole of light.
the shadows slit their throat along the walls and she remembers praying for a sunset.
--end--
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(1 black eye | Got something to say, punk?!)
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[19 Apr 2004|08:19pm] |
most days she is just melancholy;
she remembers the days that she thought the word beautiful because it whispered promises of scented wood and silences pregnant with meaning.
--end--
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(1 black eye | Got something to say, punk?!)
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|
[12 Apr 2004|07:53pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
don't breathe. |
] |
i'm still here - she stated
as she shook moonlight out of her hair.
the second tick & all they can think of is how sunlight filters through the trees at half past two.
the car wove itself in between medians
shimmering with the mirages of nothings.
and when we emerge, there'll be nothing left to burn.
(i'm not afraid anymore.)
--end--
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(1 black eye | Got something to say, punk?!)
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|
[13 Mar 2004|08:51pm] |
sitting together almost seems like a mystery too deep to untangle. their bruised hearts and good intentions negated, spilled paint across parchment and miles of deserted wastelands.
and the eight-letter word was cut in half to form some indefinite that they were afraid to say.
and he sprawled on the ground and wished for a pill to stop the adrenaline through his face and the blood through his veins. knuckles scarred from long-forgotten black eyes scraped off the sidewalks outside derelict buildings leaning from weariness.
and she said, “Tomorrow will be brighter,” watching the sound bounce off the water and up into nothingness.
mocking contradictions.
check the premises.
and he said, “Yeah,”
and they both laid back and heard the clash of swords and burning rainforests and passionate declarations of maybes winding their way through eons.
and his kiss upon the corner of her mouth carried the weight of damnation, knowing endings halfway through. No refunds here;
and her eyes were made of glass, smoked and cracked and obscured with inevitable.
“Promise,” he said, and somewhere out there another light was extinguished.
and a wish streaked across the sky, marking the end of a beginning and the end of an end.
--end--
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(Got something to say, punk?!)
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[25 Feb 2004|09:23pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
these things are made to be broken, darling. |
] |
it was a lie.
for one second, clarity came through the clenched hands, subtle shifts of eyes, the catch in his voice. an admission of a rift that avoidance would only serve to widen. god forbid that any emotion leak through the suit of armor, designed to keep organs and veins intact, and yes; to prevent the outer air from becoming sullied with well-meaning deception. it was true - that something unnamable had shifted within the equation, molecules and heartstrings no longer bound the package whole. the malediction hung in the air - a cloud shot through with crimsons and grays - just begging for the wind of new subject to divert its obscenity. but she loved him for it, for the attempts at salvation, of pseudo-redemption. it doesn't occur toi her that the salvation earned may only have been his.
paid in tears. the debt is repaid now.
--end--
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(Got something to say, punk?!)
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[20 Feb 2004|12:46pm] |
There's this girl. And she's sitting on cracked linoleum-it almost seems symbolic, in some way-
Crosslegged.
Waiting to be saved. Kung pao chicken, rubbery teriyaki are our saviors these days. (Get your goddamn cultures straight.)
The neon outside casts its curses. Instant chemotherapy, I've heard it's chic nowadays from the junkies strewn outside on the street.
That, and they'd be wasting away if she didn't look any closer. Tired mouths masticate loneliness, processed and deep-fried for your convenience.
And then he moves through, cleaning away the rubble of Western civilization.
Don't feed the animals, God seems to have a sense of irony after all.
She thinks of some obscure song she'll never remember the name of and wishes for a cigarette-
-(not that she smokes, but she needs some habits to break)
She stares just long enough to read the label on his jeans;
Armani.
Corporate America says jump, she cartwheels through hoops of flame.
Privately, she thinks that he's too young to be married.
Maybe he stays home to sing karaoke with the kids.
Demolished, a World Trade center of throwaways. &emptys
Emotions missing, presumed dead. By the thousands.
And it's his job.
And privately, she thinks, ad. infinitum.
--end--
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(Got something to say, punk?!)
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| (let me know if this is deja vu.) |
[28 Jan 2004|09:56pm] |
perfect. sanguine.
pretty sylllables with pretty meanings. i spread my hope across the sky in searching for the quality to make it stick, that the residue would last through the blustery winter wind. fighting back wonder; there is no infinite mystery in endless dances between frictions. everything is nothing and nothing is everything. but i; i am only nothing. a bundle of cells and protein bound together by faulty synapses and misguided intentions. waiting only for the malignant spark to cause infernos.
flames like these have the power to remake the world.
or destroy it.
--end--
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(1 black eye | Got something to say, punk?!)
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| funny |
[05 Jan 2004|06:10pm] |
my thoughts are diffusing in scattered remnants, broken by the combination of exhaustion and the burden of cliched words. overandoverandoverrollercoaster.
i am sitting here with stale candy canes and the mystery key to an unnamable source hanging from a chain link around my neck. dead weight.
the limit as n approaches infinity verges dangerously upon anarchy.
guess what, you took the chance, but i couldn't care less. you lose this round of russian roulette.
the irony is that this monotony has trained me into thinking that there is nothing more; slam the lid quickly on The Box and clap the irons upon it, quick, [before an original thought escapes].
bangbangyou'redead.
--end--
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(Got something to say, punk?!)
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| belated, ad. inf. |
[31 Dec 2003|05:13pm] |
the feeling of failure dripped off our drooped visages as if from some inferno that had the ability to melt defenses. i have seen the edge of the world last night, not marked with the blaring caution signs or precautions against the Helpless Civilian, but a quiet gorge that dropped away to nothing without even a whisper. a sheer cliff lined only with mirrors to reveal your own self-loathing, a premature shattering so that the final wouldn't seem unprecedented. you would have loved to see me fight with jagged remnants of my pride, searching to draw blood with fingernails and syllables.
i want to be free of your memory, i would slit it to pieces with my shadows. i have no need for adrenaline [or a heart]
you are too late; i am drowned by my ennui.
--end--
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(Got something to say, punk?!)
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| alter ego [late night dreams]. |
[27 Dec 2003|06:34pm] |
|
i'd never had such clarity. the crisp clean edges of desktops& reassuring angles to constitute The Whole.
leaning back, handstangled. ((my hair, your love.))
a whisper in my ear - you asked for this.
every waking moment.
leaves skitter outside, held by invisible strings, a celestial puppet show from the corner of my eyes where I kept beautiful things for rainy days.
on the other side of the curtain of reality, we didn't need to live on borrowed happiness. smiles pour like golden puddles, &i almost believed in permanence. yours.
we were just waiting. to live the next photograph. poloroids aren't instant, darling.
/flash.
winter coats and sweaters tumble to the floor without a whisper. it should have been some indication. we're hiding. we're taking her to a better place. blackness crept in a little closer.
i couldn't get the door open.
piercing sirens through brittle awakening--
--end--
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(2 black eyes | Got something to say, punk?!)
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crushed