If not today then perhaps tomorrow...
My brain tilts on a flimsy swivel stick, both encased in my cumbersome head. Whose eyes you might sometimes look into and swear maybe something was going on... that you didn't realize when actually I can only fool you into that because for the better part of the time I don't even know myself.
I swear they're there the voices like you say just a bit more subtle and less audible. Maybe I'm the voices and in some other plane of existence, there's some lost listless person wandering around just hoping they might get it right. While here I am interjecting random bits of thought and action here and there, without any definite consistent goals or even an immediate course of action. Merely just fucking it up for the poor fellow over and over and still. And at times, I feel it might be heaven's greatest mercy that somehow some traumatic freak occurance might take place to sever the signal coarsing along the network... that is my most untrustworthy fickle central nervous system.
Worse things could have happened to better people.
09 October 2010
18 September 2010
Till the fire plays with me when we have it all figured out
What better way to forget some things I've done than to indulge myself in a fleeting life of sin in a way I thought I never might.
An accumulation of days spent being somebody who's intentions; I thought best at a time and to then find out that none of this necessarily has any bearing on the future or any bearing on those for whom I have such great concern for.
Forgetting myself for a while, tasting, breathing and swimming in a sea of the adulturous capitalist monster. Exchanging the sight of some shameful skin that might also one day hope to forget the garments shed and feels like food might be put on the side of the table.
Because in so many ways we're so much the same, it's shame and it's sin and it's sad and it's duality. And it's something I hope can be ignored in future days in altered future selves and tears shed collected and dry on the bed spread, the table top and through it all but none of this can speak even a word for what we hope might be of ourselves at a later time.
All the world's good intentions can sometimes count for as little as breeze blown dust to the air and into your eyes bringing the sting and welling tears to drip and to deliver to the air of your home a little taste of a simple course of action that you wish could be wiped clean from the face of history but that won't be because you won't forget why you cried them.
I want to wake up somewhere else, someone else, without a recognizable past.
Entirely.
What better way to forget some things I've done than to indulge myself in a fleeting life of sin in a way I thought I never might.
An accumulation of days spent being somebody who's intentions; I thought best at a time and to then find out that none of this necessarily has any bearing on the future or any bearing on those for whom I have such great concern for.
Forgetting myself for a while, tasting, breathing and swimming in a sea of the adulturous capitalist monster. Exchanging the sight of some shameful skin that might also one day hope to forget the garments shed and feels like food might be put on the side of the table.
Because in so many ways we're so much the same, it's shame and it's sin and it's sad and it's duality. And it's something I hope can be ignored in future days in altered future selves and tears shed collected and dry on the bed spread, the table top and through it all but none of this can speak even a word for what we hope might be of ourselves at a later time.
All the world's good intentions can sometimes count for as little as breeze blown dust to the air and into your eyes bringing the sting and welling tears to drip and to deliver to the air of your home a little taste of a simple course of action that you wish could be wiped clean from the face of history but that won't be because you won't forget why you cried them.
I want to wake up somewhere else, someone else, without a recognizable past.
Entirely.
11 September 2010
01 September 2010
I would love...
Taking on your body language. Making you smile without moving your mouth. Pausing in the middle of a kiss and saying "Hi." Knowing that there is always something bigger to catch. Knowing that you aren't beautiful until I know you. Keeping things sacred and being for just one person. Watching your hands move when I should be listening to you speak. Knowing I'm saying more when nothing's coming out of my mouth. Having a tight grip. Feeling your expressions change when your face is buried in my neck. The scent of your voice, the sworn secrecy that your eyes give me when I'm spilling, the one millionth of a millimeter between our skin; just enough room. Breathing in what you breathe out. Look you in the eye and tell you that I love you.
But could not.
Taking on your body language. Making you smile without moving your mouth. Pausing in the middle of a kiss and saying "Hi." Knowing that there is always something bigger to catch. Knowing that you aren't beautiful until I know you. Keeping things sacred and being for just one person. Watching your hands move when I should be listening to you speak. Knowing I'm saying more when nothing's coming out of my mouth. Having a tight grip. Feeling your expressions change when your face is buried in my neck. The scent of your voice, the sworn secrecy that your eyes give me when I'm spilling, the one millionth of a millimeter between our skin; just enough room. Breathing in what you breathe out. Look you in the eye and tell you that I love you.
But could not.
29 August 2010
25 August 2010
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