2005 4 October :: 7.15 pm
Duct tape smiles
So the question peaked out through the slit of your lips, saw the strength in your face, and cried tears of blood that dripped on the sheets.
The scale crashed and the weights scattered.
The clock slipped and the glass shattered.
We taped ourselves together, today.
2005 3 October :: 7.53 pm
To go off of what I've written in the past:
If love is a war, then your mouth is the rifle. You've got a gunpowdertongue and barrelshapedlips. [Quite the arsenal, if you ask me.] And my heart bites the bullet of your leadammunitionwords.
I've found something worth fighting for, (my mother told me to choose the very best one) and you are
2005 3 October :: 6.10 pm
:: Mood: anxious
:: Music: Chevelle
This clock has no hands
The indecision of the answer weighs on your shoulders like the world
and the question hasn't even been asked yet.
The scales are tipping.
Time is r-u--n---n----i-----n------g out.
It doesn't have to be asked. There's no point in it, anyway. The matter doesn't lie in the question, only the answer.
Either way, in the end, it won't be our problem. It's not our fault, because kids will be kids will be kids will be kids will be kids will be [we're just] kids.
2005 26 September :: 7.12 pm
You We could never forget.
There's ink pumpingflowingcoursing through my veins and into my heart from the notes you write to me. And it bleeds from my fingertips when I reply. You are the apple of my eye.
Pupil? Iris? Metaphor?
Subtle and difficult; oh how we care for one another.
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2005 26 September :: 5.58 pm
:: Music: Bright Eyes - Digital Ash in a Digital Urn
If I had a pen of my own, I'd drain it
You sinksanksunk your knife into the sentence, and I watched as you cut the words and stabbed the letters. Everything went silent when you killed the conversation. Screams fell into whispers which faded into the air.
You sinksanksunk your teeth into the hour, and I watched as you chewed up the minutes, and swallowed the seconds. Everything went motionless when you consumed the clock. Time slowed and stilled and stopped.
But after it all,
Our hearts still race and rush,
And our tongues still taste and touch.
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2005 23 September :: 6.46 pm
"...but you just want to fall apart."
I'll never look at you the same, with the way you crumbled into pieces on the ground. Now hold yourself together, girl. I'll give you supplies:
(1.)Staple[s] your eyelids shut.
(2.)Tape up all of your imperfections (more like mummification, if you ask me).
Twist (3.)Screws through your throat.
(4.)Nail[s] your muscles to your bones.
That should due.
-you've been running all day and night. And contrary to popular belief, you've been (you can run but you can't) hid(e)[ing] too. But I know all your special places. I know all your tricks from childhoodgames and masquerades; you can't fool me. I will look in the:
Hide in (1.)Shadows until the daylight breaks.
Smother yourself with (2.)Smoke.
Wrap and curl the (3.)Fog around your limbs.
Cover yourself with (4.)Veils and cloaks.
Oh I've used this before, but here it takes on a whole different meaning, when before, it was almost
2005 18 September :: 11.17 pm
:: Music: At the Drive-In
Scrawled with sharpie on scraps of notebook paper
Fire follows the fuse,
and you're burning along with the bridge.
Sever ties and,
Break communication and,
Destroy liasons and,
and then you're on your way.
1 comment |
2005 13 September :: 6.44 pm
:: Music: Thursday
You can grab a bigger one down the line
Maybe it was my fault the first time you took the bait, (I should've known better) but that second hole in your cheek means you learn (think) too slow
-and burn (react) too fast.
I was w
a(o)ndering a r(b)ou nd(t) how timid you first were, and what changed your mind.
Why yell now? Why do you scream? I read all your words, but what do they mean? I know it's in lowercase and only CAPITALS! seem like screaming here, but I can(') t(y)ell.
I wander through and around, inside and out your semantics, diagrams and schematics. You're planning something, I can see it in your boldfacedlies, and the words you italicize. Could the truth be straight and narrow, as easy to follow as your (under)lines and
Dot dot dot
Wondering, wandering, repeating and
4 comments |
2005 13 September :: 6.27 pm
Just pick one and attack
Oh, what fun it is to create. But what you're doing is not creation. It's more like smashing a mirror into smaller pieces, just to see more of yourself. (Simile.)
2 comments |
2005 11 September :: 11.27 pm
:: Music: smashing pumpkins - 1979
Bruises and teethmarks; don't wait for a reply
Oh, and I'm still hiding behind blackveils? Caught in the lip by my own metaphors, dragged out of the water with gills burning and fins flapping.
Oh, and I'm still choking on the cloudedvision? Shovels and claws didn't get me deep enough, I gu(digr)ess.
Oh, and I'm still trapped inside the funhousemirrors? Unable to see past my own reflection, but never getting sick of my own face.
Well I've got a story to tell to tell to tell (
- - -- - - -- -- - - __ -- - -- - -_----- - - - - - -
And I crawled out of the ground where the dirt met the roots at the trunk of the tree.
Rebirth. (Some would say the next life.) Peering into the night, I saw one thing: the shadows. Cloakinghidingmasking everything. Softening details that in the daylight would be too harsh to gaze upon. And in this gaze I learned that all I wanted to do was become one of them. So I crawled over the ground, scraping my stomach on the leaves and sticks and dirt, to the darkest of the shadows.
I sunk myself deep inside the darkness and I became the shadow. I melted out of my physical form into the air itself. I became the night. Free to roam to hunt to follow.
I roamed through the trees, sliding from leaf to branch to trunk.
I hunted the birds, flying across the ground. I hunted the beasts, filling their tracks before their feet had left them.
I followed every footstep of every animal, every sway of every branch, sliding over the dirt in every shadow.
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