February 2012
24 posts
4 tags
2 tags
They don't award this kind of bravery
I was told a story today about a boy who tried to end everything, the teasing, the laughter, the rumors. He missed the vital point and only managed to blow his jaw away. He’s clinging to life with itchy trigger fingers.
I walked home and bent in the wind. It was jaw droppingly cold (forgive the horrible pun). The cold that scrapes chalkboard nails down humerus and radius, erodes...
2 tags
3 tags
The ghost in the room
My father’s asked me to stop visiting my grandmother with him.
I remember once, he pulled me aside after we left and said “That was the first time she said ‘I love you.’” Dementia lends tact to us all. Like family resemblance, the same genes that haunt her, shadow my father mercilessly. We all have to do our time, when my father forgets how to play his favourite...
3 tags
We just missed the skidding car
I could have died tonight. There was a point on the QEW between here and the twelve where the world went quiet. Somewhere between the music and the wet white rush of snow, I stopped caring about everything.
I looked into the highway oblivion and the pieces just seemed to align or more likely, I saw things the way they truly were. In the dark I found that for the strangest moment, I would have...
3 tags
So tell me, who are you?
I’m not even a person I swear. Don’t worry, I can lie like the best of them, it’s just the other homonym that leaves me weak and defenseless.
I still feel things, I can differentiate between the curved line of a smile and the sandpaper texture of stubble. Sometimes, I can feel my heart in my chest. Dark and consistent, in the literal sense.
But in the figurative sense, I...
5 tags
2am has never been a high point
Sometimes life is just horseshit and all you can do is bus home with red eyes and a rapidly failing consciousness.
Sometimes you can’t talk about it and it’s the ghost that follows you from room to room, cold fingers reaching into your ribcage and pulling you half-steps backwards.
Sometimes strange pains in your head stand out in places you’ve never actively cast thought...
3 tags
flirtingwithhonesty:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I’ll fuck you with a rake.
And you said I can’t be romantic.
classic
1 tag
4 tags
When articulation leaves you wanting for air
Quiet ceremonies in the night are powerful. As when I wrapped my ring finger around yours and you kissed my knuckle.
Or early in the morning, waking me up by kissing the rim of my coffee mug before offering it to my lips in adulation and ablution.
I’m profoundly sorry these words will never breathe transparent sheets held and lit by sunlight. You deserve so much more than my symbolism.
...
4 tags
Look how easily I lie
If words should fail to bring your love and language lies collapsed and dead at our feet, I will cease all use of language and dialect other than the silent worship of your name.
My mouth will sleep with the memory of lips, tongue, teeth, exploring every hidden inch of you and coaxing words of god and fuck and yes.
It seems a shame that my fingertips will never know just what you tasted...
2 tags
there's no place quite like home
Tonight I will drink and smoke, I’ll spend it with new friends born of necessity. Tonight I should be lonely, but I will forget how.
I’ll remember tomorrow and it will be all the more painful.
reading week
grassstained:
my dog joe or mulberry cafe. often.
go to the baltimore house on king william because it’s edgar allan poe themed and that sounds neat.
get our fortunes told by a physic.
face paint somehow, for sierra.
more disposable cameras.
tequila fridays… or tuesdays.
waterfall hikes. i’m serious guys. the weather’s even nice and all.
sleepovers. as usual.
star wars.
skating at...
5 tags
West texas ain't the garden of eden
Evil is nothing more than motel napkin lipstick excuse; “I don’t usually do this.” “I’m not like the people who do.” We are all blatant liars. We are all capable of the most heinous of acts.
You can run and bar every door against the horror you’ve caused but you know deep in your pounding skull, that locked doors are a fiction. Nothing keeps retribution away for long. It’s easy...
3 tags
3 tags
1 tag
2 tags
Honey, 12:15 am
This is a Mexican standoff and I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of standing and watching suns rise and the inevitable set in complete static. We need a sign, and the words we’ve never said are the tumbleweeds that cross our minds incessantly. I want to make what’s written on my eyelids when I sleep into real, solid words that scream defiance. One of us needs to either move or remember how...
1 tag
January 2012
29 posts
2 tags
I can't help in any other way
When everything seems to be unzipping, the pieces will always find a way to come together. Give it time kids, in the end, I just have to believe that the good will happen to people who deserve it.
There will be times when the bad will overwhelm the good and trust me, it will be hard and it will never get easier. Just keep moving forward, it’s all you can do.
These words are getting...
3 tags
3 tags
That thing we never talk about
Late one night, you wiped something from your knuckles as you met me on my porch.
I had too many clothes on, it was summer and that scared you.
“It’s done.”
My closing eyes said everything; thank you.
You steeled yourself for this, checked your nails for the filth and wiped them on your black pants. Softly, you placed a gentle hand on my shoulder ignoring the shudder that...
5 tags
2 tags
It'sokay,youdon'thavetoreadthis.
Here is my topic sentence: Maybe you should just skim this. Becauselet’sallbehonest,whatplace doespoetryevenhavethesedays. Youwon’treadthis,you’lllookforthe boldedwordssuchas Love is hard. There’ssomemeaningandyoudidn’t evenhavetoreadthis,Igaveittoyou.Ihope onedayyou’llpicksomethingupandevery lastword w i l l s t a n d o u t,andmore importantly,tellyou...
1 tag
4 tags
A Vulgar Teen Thought
louiseandherlover:
I use my room for two things: sleeping and masturbation. So, wherever we are going better have parties that go all night, and lots of girls to fuck.
things that are wrong with today
grassstained:
it’s raining
i’ve got a lot of homework that i didn’t do on the weekend
going home this weekend made me miss it more
i miss my dog because she’s always down to cuddle
i have to clean my room still
i currently don’t have anything coming up that i’m really looking forward to
my lecturer for class today doesn’t speak loud enough
my ipod is still broken and i hate walking and...
2 tags
4 tags
A Voice on an Answering Machine
I can’t erase her voice. If I opened the door to the cage & tossed the magpie into the air, a part of me would fly away, leaving only the memory of a plucked string trembling into the night. The voice unwinds breath, soldered wires, chance, loss, & digitalized impulse. She’s telling me how light pushed darkness till her father stood at the bedroom door dressed in a white tunic. Sometimes...
5 tags
4 tags
Ad infinitum
Wake up, roll out of bed Monday through Friday. The weekends, I wake up late. It’s cold and bright outside, this November weather mid-January.
Of course, I talk to people everywhere. Smile at some, blush and look away. There are days where I fall in love with strangers off the street. And I’m sure there are days where they fall in love with me.
Weekend nights, I drink with friends and on...
4 tags
Sentimentality
These photographs are the capture of emotion in a moment, turned into small happinesses held in the hands of friends and smiled over when times seem dark and you’ve lost sight of the good. Edges worn from reassurance, smooth from touching nostalgia.
Take pictures of the people you love and paste them your walls; remember that the good will always come back. Paste them to telephone poles ...
Do that sexy thing you do with your tongue.
cutlerish:
Talk intelligently and at length.
3 tags
To those sheltering darkness
There was a sea and a storm and a captain whose face was covered in lines second only to the map he’d charted.
There was a girl with a heart she’d deliberately dyed black with endless coffee and excess cigarettes.
There was a message in a bottle, merely a rough sketch of a gutted heart, cast off to be clutched in the hands of Krakenous lover.
There was a reflection in the mirror,...
3 tags
“They rode on.”
– Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian (via lastlifeinuniverse)
I'm too young to have left home
tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow the world comes back and I will be gone.
4 tags
3 tags
Nothing has changed
I write things that are too personal, even strangers can’t read them. I can be clichéd and write about how I sat at my notebook and bled. Or I can say the person I show to the world, and you, is the person I’d like to be.
These things will sit in my notebook and either fester or heal. Maybe airing them out will speed the healing. That, or the toxic world will find a way to make me...
1 tag
6 tags
6 tags
