January 2011
48 posts
“i’m going to hell, to hell, to hell- wild, wild, wild.”
pressure, pressure. there are times when you feel the lightness of your body. you feel the air in your lungs. you breathe in, you breathe out. you match your breath to the person you are pressed against. you feel their breath against your chest. the air, the air it fills you like a balloon. it fills you without notice until you feel your body start to rise. no, no, no it’s a loss of control...
when you opened your eyes moths flew out. your hollow sockets were the perfect place to spin silk. the perfect place to create something beautiful.
there was snow on top of the mountains which you could see from the yard when you stepped outside. everything was beautiful in the gold of the day. you stood and watched the sun set over the peaks and felt your body tighten as the devil so delicately sucked at your ear and pressed against you from behind. lets make it evil.
“she be rockin’ chinchilla coats if i let you go. gettin’ the house...”
there are ghosts that live inside of me. there are monsters that live inside of you. open your mouth and i will suck the monsters out of the cracks inside your teeth. i will let my ghosts kill your monsters.
everything smelled of amber and everyone glowed in the small kitchen with light minds and alcohol kisses. your eyes had a bit of gold when i went to lean into you. and you smiled. i will eat you alive my love.
there is a black cat at the door with his fate hanging from his small white fangs.
ask/tell.
what are your tattoos? would you mind showing pictures? i have a bird & blossoms on my right upper arm which leads into a bird cage on my back. it’s not quite finished yet. on my left forearm i have a wishbone i got on a whim after work once night. it matches a wishbone on &theblossom. if you look closely at the wishbone photo you may be able to see a faint scar, also on my forearm....
“let’s move to utah. let’s make some sick love. let’s shoot our...”
under the moon the snow insulates everything. it holds heat in for creatures in their burrows; screams from behind bedroom doors.
replace your blood with tea & crack his teeth for sugar.
tired, tired, tired & everything will start again. sleepless nights & little wolves. bruises up & down. sleep tight in warm beds, listen to the birds. everything will start again.
“let’s paint our teeth green. let’s shoot a snuff film. let’s...”
why do you stay?
stranger danger: ask.
under the full moon things progress. pale skin glows. teeth, thighs, & sighs. use your mouth, use your hands, make me believe there is a god.
there are creatures who wander the world as we sleep. we hide from darkness & they greet it with wide, sharp smiles. we hide from the darkness but what has it done?
the birds are laughing as we try to sleep. i do my timetables & listen to you breathe
ask.
you distribute hope so liberally. what is YOUR hope? hope is a tricky thing to hold onto. sometimes you feel like there is no hope, no future, absolutely no light at the end of the disaster. my hope is to make it through each day because there are a lot of mornings i would rather bury myself under the soil & wait to become new. i also hope i can make someone feel a little less alone. how do...
there is an ask feature.
everything is real but nothing is real & in bed you said do you exist? some days we’re sure, others we’re not. it’s a tricky thing. did you know we have blood under our skin?
some of you may know i run a website called you are remarkable. i started it about two & a half years ago. since then i have published two editions of the you are remarkable book & recently i was interviewed about the book & website. you download that interview here. i’m not a very eloquent speaker, so don’t expect too much. if you are interested in the book you can...
“my older sister has entire kingdoms inside of her, & some of them are only...”
the moon fell out of the sky when the darkness was too heavy for it to hide. the ocean fell out of the moon, when the flood tide crashed upon the dune. when trees grew out of the ocean, the bark peeled from it’s limbs. the winter turned them into skeletons of which the young girl grew. milk white thighs; heavy sighs. when she opened her mouth to shout hundreds of bees flew out. sticky sweet with...
driving into the bright city you rewrote a life for yourself where murderers were the best lovers & the blood on the walls washed off in the morning sun.
the stars on the ceiling create patterns to get lost in & you try to remember what the world was like before you were human. you were a creature thought up in some fever dream, locked out by reason.
have you seen the ghost who hurries by windows on a bright winter day? have you seen the way the evergreen grows horizontally from that house? have you followed the patterns
in everything & did you know there are bones under your skin? this waking life is all a dream. we only exist within someone else’s make believe.
tonight i will sail across the sea & silently crack your ribs. i will crawl inside of your frail chest & inhale, exhale. i will sleep inside.
“the dancers didn’t have their feet on the families in the graveyard....”
in & out we wander. what is real? some days it is harder to judge & everything is within a dream so you sleep away your days so there is less of a divide.
you’re twenty three & your tiny milk teeth show your age. it’s july & your teeth shine like diamonds furthering the freckling on my summer skin. i wanted to suck the pain from your mouth, the evil from under your skin. we were closed eyed & laughing. we were on top of the world.
fadeing in; fadeing out. what is true; what is false? it starts with a whisper & ends with a shout.
“as if a trembling bird were beyond your bones.”
i used to make music. i want to make music. i want to replace the instruments that assholes stole. i want to make something people enjoy. help us make music.
there was a cat who lived in the ground. buried deep under soil; deep under snow. his fur was matted & leaving his bones. his eyes were closed. his mouth was stiff & didn’t allow for any sound to seep out. on certain nights he would find himself a way out. his tired bones would be pulled to the surface by the moon & he would rise. he would wander blind to the places he knew. the...
black bird corpses. →
i’ve sold my soul for the following months. crossed my t’s & dotted my i’s. three weeks a month, five days a week, three months. i will sit in a big room with big windows & watch words fall from witness mouths & decide the fate of many individuals a day. playing god, playing the devil? we’ll see how it goes.