March 2012
19 posts
4 tags
Sometimes...
Sometimes, I paint. Usually when my brain is overwrought and not able to catch a damn thing in words, so my creativity needs to be drained in a different matter.
This one didn’t turn out too shabby.
3 tags
“The judge tilted his great head. The man who believes that the secrets of the...”
– Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy
5 tags
Is This What?
Has it always been
the way it was?
Or do things
change so rapidly
our eyes blink in tune
with the unforeseen?
Is this what it
always is?
Is it some room
in some state,
searching
for home
and dying
to get anywhere?
5 tags
I Can't Think.
If I could do anything
today,
it would be
to move through it
without you.
Such a distraction -
that image
of your tie
wrapped around,
biting
your bottom lip
as our skin
melds together
and I feel
nothing except
shortness of breath
and anticipation
of everything.
I can’t think
when I’ve
left my mind
in your sheets.
5 tags
Reconstructed Feeling.
If I could explain how I feel
I would.
But I can’t.
My thoughts
pound my doors
and beat my tongue
but stay exactly where they are
while I watch you drown in words
and twirl in verbs
and writhe in so much prose
I envy the mirror of your pen.
Instead I feel.
I feel and
watch lines on shapes
come alive
and jump in brilliant definition,
definition
I can’t...
8 tags
A Thank You.
There have been times I feel like I’m writing simply to make my own fingers ache. I wonder, is this just me unwinding? Does anybody give a fucking shit? How in the hell am I supposed to be a ‘writer’ if all I’m doing is blogging? I roll my eyes at people who blog - now I’m one of them?
But, keeping this blog has proved to be the best thing I’ve ever done....
5 tags
To Say...
I could never tell you.
I’ll look at you
and wonder
and think
and dive so far
into the brown of your eyes
a surface no longer exists -
but I’ll stay quiet.
I can’t let you see.
We’re all
far too damaged
to let each other see.
I keep clasping
your hand
like I’m not afraid.
Intertwining my fingers
around you
even though
fear of ripped out...
4 tags
Still Simply.
I’m not thinking of anything.
I’m with the wind,
the grass,
the pollen bits
running into my cells.
There’s a song in the background,
but it’s not really there.
The sun peeks in
time to time,
but the clouds are my roof
and dim reflection
of suppressed rays
my light.
I am simply.
The earth rustles,
everything sways,
and everything I am
is...
5 tags
These Things.
These things I’ve left behind are unnameable.
They are feelings
and instances
and glances around corners
and sweeps of wind
and moments of laughter.
They are sand beneath my feet
and the people next to me
as I dug in my toes.
They are city lights
who burn in
one state or another.
They are places I’ll roam
trying to replicate
but never duplicate.
6 tags
This Moving Train.
I remember when I saw you.
And you.
And you.
And all of you.
It was imprinted on me. I saw you, bent over a desk, tattooed in a classroom, confident behind a line. I caught these moments of you and something clicked. I thought - I want that. And I made you mine, for better and far worse. I wore you like an arm band and kept you close while we ruined each other in tangled limbs and empty...
5 tags
Colors and Lines.
Colors and lines
and lines and colors
blurring and blurring and blurring together.
This corner here,
that corner there
wrapped around
in brilliant despair.
Grab a pen
and get it then
cause the glimpse is fleeting
and the feeling gone
before you can shout -
this adjectives wrong!
It was different than that!
I swear I swear!
Oh if you had only been there.
You’d of...
5 tags
5 tags
Julie's Kite.
There wasn’t a windy day that hadn’t met Julie’s kite. The field behind her house had become a haven; a place she could delicately hold the elements and imagine herself up there, swimming in blue and touching the sun.
5 tags
It Ain't Love.
Inner or outer,
it doesn’t matter.
One day indifferent
while the next
brims of feeling
in a lovely paragon.
//
It ain’t love, but it’s something.
//
So today,
I might call.
Or think of calling.
But I won’t care
if the other line stings empty.
Not like yesterday
when care rang my insides.
//
It ain’t love, but it’s something.
//
...
5 tags
“I can do this with my soul wrapped around my knuckles.”
– A friend. Who deserves to be quoted for that.
spanning-time asked: you're actually a whole lot better than most tumblr "poets".
6 tags
You Ruined My Buzz.
He picks up the phone after one ring. After fourteen years of friendship, we’ve got the silent connection bit down.
“Yo!” he answers like it’s a social call. Little does he know…
“So, on a scale from 1 to 10, how bad would you say your drug habit is currently?” I dive right in. Small talk is for acquaintances, not truer than blood friends.
...
3 tags
“And why was quiet desperation such a widespread malady back then, and especially...”
– Kurt Vonnegut, Galapagos
Blory #105
velvetblory:
The Waitress.
23 years old with brittle bones
and a broken smile,
wearing non-slip shoes every night
just to stumble into the city bustle
too tired to light a cigarette.
Youth is slipping by
each punch of the saturday night clock.
She watches it dance in front of her,
all smiles at a table
and skirts on the sidewalk.
But her smile is fake,
her skirt is uniform,
and...
