small children run by, screaming
while mothers reclaim wasted balls
of wrapping paper, take back the
raped ribbons and bows
search for batteries, doubleA
toys and small trinkets lie
forgotten, and this is
supposed to be spiritual - everybody
let's pray to the god of vapid waste
and worship to the tune of rudolph.
Sunday, December 28, 2003
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
anthologies of nothing
imagine the creamy pages
filled with type, my
words bleak against the
blank canvas. we peer
over his shoulder, fingering
the pages - they're a
van gogh smile, an ironic note
with a witty title
and a fucking brilliant ending -
yes, my words held bleakly
up to the light,
rejected punctually.
filled with type, my
words bleak against the
blank canvas. we peer
over his shoulder, fingering
the pages - they're a
van gogh smile, an ironic note
with a witty title
and a fucking brilliant ending -
yes, my words held bleakly
up to the light,
rejected punctually.
Monday, December 15, 2003
uninvited, again
a cup of tea
cold, grey skies
the wind speaks
through the trees as i
sit here, feet drawn up
in the familiar positions
left foot numb under
right leg, knees
close to my chest
(an oft - repeated tale
of mourning)
well
outside brings
darkening skies
i leave my hollow,
with wind - reddened cheeks.
cold, grey skies
the wind speaks
through the trees as i
sit here, feet drawn up
in the familiar positions
left foot numb under
right leg, knees
close to my chest
(an oft - repeated tale
of mourning)
well
outside brings
darkening skies
i leave my hollow,
with wind - reddened cheeks.
Sunday, December 14, 2003
history
let me tell you about this girl
i once, she once...
we sneaked out at odd hours
playing rapunzel with
towers, mirrors, and facades.
let me spin tales of our escapes
from families that
never gave a shit
we'll talk over the rain
and the angsty music on the stereo
about how life could be,
if only we could get it together,
hang on long enough to survive.
watch us scream,
look at the patterns.
fake sleep at one,
leave at two,
try to survive
until five finds us
sneaking back in.
i once, she once...
we sneaked out at odd hours
playing rapunzel with
towers, mirrors, and facades.
let me spin tales of our escapes
from families that
never gave a shit
we'll talk over the rain
and the angsty music on the stereo
about how life could be,
if only we could get it together,
hang on long enough to survive.
watch us scream,
look at the patterns.
fake sleep at one,
leave at two,
try to survive
until five finds us
sneaking back in.
Sunday, December 7, 2003
darkhaired man
sometimes i can feel it,
over the phone
when you think your face
can't give you away
but you don't fool me,
i hear your smiling over the line
one step closer to a touch
of hand on my back,
a one-armed hug
caress of your hand on my face
i can hear you turn away
and when you speak,
you're smiling.
over the phone
when you think your face
can't give you away
but you don't fool me,
i hear your smiling over the line
one step closer to a touch
of hand on my back,
a one-armed hug
caress of your hand on my face
i can hear you turn away
and when you speak,
you're smiling.
Saturday, December 6, 2003
then i don't want your heaven
you tell me
you tell me about your hells,
and your demons
you tell me that blood
can save my soul - well
if that's true, i must be
saved a thousand times over
i've bled all over my pages
every single time i could -
i've bled to erase everything.
is my soul clean yet?
you tell me about your hells,
and your demons
you tell me that blood
can save my soul - well
if that's true, i must be
saved a thousand times over
i've bled all over my pages
every single time i could -
i've bled to erase everything.
is my soul clean yet?
Friday, December 5, 2003
kiss Mirror day
i've written her countless letters,
balled into scrap paper
by my useless hands.
i have picked up the phone
a hundred times,
only to press the receiver down,
phone call
unstarted.
i burn to hear your voice.
balled into scrap paper
by my useless hands.
i have picked up the phone
a hundred times,
only to press the receiver down,
phone call
unstarted.
i burn to hear your voice.
Thursday, December 4, 2003
your odes
i miss your curves, your curls
the small hand entwined in mine
like worship, like prayer
your hesitant fumbling
the quickened heartbeat
(your lips on mine,
scared, insistent,
but trembling)
you aren't just background.
the small hand entwined in mine
like worship, like prayer
your hesitant fumbling
the quickened heartbeat
(your lips on mine,
scared, insistent,
but trembling)
you aren't just background.
Wednesday, December 3, 2003
rain on me
her words transport me to a time
when the bane of my existence
lay in a solitary stretch of road
my speedometer spelling illegal numbers
tears on my face
rain on the road
as i wrapped tightly
in my jacket and smiled
when the bane of my existence
lay in a solitary stretch of road
my speedometer spelling illegal numbers
tears on my face
rain on the road
as i wrapped tightly
in my jacket and smiled
Monday, December 1, 2003
stupid girl
i love you
i do not say it enough;
i turn my head when you
mouth the words against my cheek.
close my eyes, i
cannot hold my heart in its place.
i hope you can read my mind;
its reasons, hows and whys.
i do not say it enough;
i turn my head when you
mouth the words against my cheek.
close my eyes, i
cannot hold my heart in its place.
i hope you can read my mind;
its reasons, hows and whys.
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