Log in

No account? Create an account
now friends history profile <-- <-- --> -->
one night on a clifftop a long time ago. - burnt out/still glowing
one night on a clifftop a long time ago.
most written last yr, some last night. all deeply personal. to be added to, in time...

i truly believe[d] we'd stay
together always & burn-
out anonymous & beautiful
like two shooting stars
swallowing up the sky
undercover of daytime

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.

-mobile phone
-instant message
-fax machine
-carrier pigeon
-smoke signals

the more ways
we find to
the lonelier
we become

after two years & several months

what i remember of
her face & legs could

fill volumes,
what i have forgotten,

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.

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 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.

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
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...

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.

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 23words]
once i dreamt i was boatmusic with no words, an oyster with anteriority, a heddcold with no pain, an orkid with no petals.

porcelain dolls hidden deepin disguise, only given away by the greyest angel dust eyes. for lies, pull the chord on her back.

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.

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.

close er
a glass stuck
to a coaster.

bra-less white t-shirt, she was like a ballerina twirling on high heels, her nipples smiling at me.

i held your hairback while you threw up six dozen failed relationships. she's going to puke on my hush puppies, i thought.

the collector

in a field, running into
you months and years away.

hello, we met
once before in
april or may.

with a vacant look,
she flicked through a book,
filled to the brim with the names
of boys with sweaty palms and
unadventurous lifeless lips.

"you're not in here" she smiled

i'm the boy that doesn't get out
of bed when it's raining.

"i remember you. you don't get out
of bed when it's sunny too?"

that's right.

"that night" she said

"when the sky hung low like some
past lovers locket around my neck.."

i bit my lip and held your hair
back while you threw up six
dozen failed relationships.

"i puked on your hush puppies" she said

you pawned away your past
and didn't take a ticket.

"do you still have the past? i'd like it back"

i ate it.

"but it was a part of me.."

can you hear my tummy rumbling?


do you wantto go grab
something to eat with me?


the growling of my
tummy are the voices
of your past lovers.
they say hi and
goodbye and they say
you were a lousy kisser.