Frust.Content is a long handFrust.
pondering fingers over my waist while he knows, wordlessly,
that I am a nectarine-fleshed woman. The sun sank and it could not be the same
again once it rose again and caught us and the waves tore off my thin peach-red skin. Because you are a moving man.
My pieces of seed are burrowed in so many soils coffee-foamy, rich, but not a single one
can grow for the thick black lid all over that earth and I fret.
Forgingeverything is familiar, smells of the old tune, walking in the old groove, it lives in your basement,Forging
in the railway-station-in-a-flickery-film light, the buttery skin on your arms we found ourselves
375 days later, we fall back and call it us again, though talking with our new eyes and tones of voice we still trip
and the mattress is still the catch -
though we can only admit it for half an hour and I couldn't stand there because it was lava, I leapt for the armchair, but I don't have long legs yet and you had to reach your arms in, and the b
HereA character croons a thin line into your mauve atmosphere, all that you can never change.Here
Painting the deep dull green of the hills laboriously with tired strokes and tired eyes, you wait for a different night, a new script for your mechanised tongue
and soft-throbbing new flesh
for your chalky hands, a moisture
for your chapped nerves,
if what feels could ever dry up.
And the old rhythm comes home.
The Original DeceitI know now how it goes, the way the tempter lays the addiction downThe Original Deceit
and Eve stoops to take it up, polish its skin, and not stop;
ways lips stay on your mind all night and steal through sleep to stay, comfort, and still not stop, because there, here, they needn't,
a gaseous place, bodies of steam, where for once, it is able to begin, it is able to take hold, sow seed, breed,
and you are Eve for the taking up, woman for your sleeve, around the heel of your hand to rub red shiny clean
and you have empty lips, unnatural, searching ton
SpiritIf life would have me know but one thing, it would be this: Nothing good comes straight away, nothing that's worth having comes easy.Spirit
So I've already prepared myself for this, for you.
Because I've been given assurance that our Street Spirit won't fade out.
Sally Sparrow, DuckIn your creative fits and bursts, i think that you've found what it means to set a love free.Sally Sparrow, Duck
They don't know us, or they've just forgotten; like all the other cynics that think they have it ordered.
Not to say that we aren't lost.
But they aren't more free.
Bits that I'd Tell Sonsthat i used to do a lot of things under the tree. like teach kids, dream and wait for birds to shit on me.Bits that I'd Tell Sons
that i used to cry under its shade because i hated the concept of pity, of mercy and that when i was a debater, i would let the adversary kneel when he/she committed Argumentum ad Misericordiam.
that i was a tire swing, or a rattan swing or a hammock made of flour bag. that i had this strong relationship with solitude. and that to drift and sway are the two things i am very graceful at.
that i could not get drunk when happy, or in a good mood or in the beach.
that i
| I'm finding outlets and inspirations in the hope of becoming interesting. |
Progress
--
You've got the answer, but it lasts
as long as you can smile, and pretty
soon your cheeks will begin to hurt.
--
The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep...
And miles to go before I sleep
-Robert Frost
--
The world is an eraser for these words
- Jack Kerouac
we must destroy that which contains us
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scott
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