July 2011
75 posts
going home
jagged cliffs and windswept hair
the commune of nature
smiles i grew up with
drive thru coffee culture
frosted meadows and dew covered firs
pollen in the sun and leaping trout
reflections of the river
shimmering and bouncing off the rocks
seeing every star
hot spring hikes in the dark
walking cougar trails and subsiding the small fear
my tribe of people
gliding down glaciers
fog on...
dmitri: Did you sleep good?
me: ya i slept fairly well
me: and yourself?
dmitri: : I can't tell
dmitri: Did you dream etc etc?
me: i did
dmitri: Fine
dmitri: Good
dmitri: I'm happy for you
me: i had a dream about this guy i don't know very well and he was wearing mustard yellow shorts and a matching t shirt
me: with a brown vest and i told him to put on a safari hat
me: or drive a mail truck
dmitri: Dream come true
me: and i woke up
me: what did you dream
me: haha
dmitri: I dream of empty bottomless voids in space
me: :)
me: pure love
dmitri: Love is all we needz
me: can haz it
I respect your tumbles.
“it’s normal to have a rash, joint pain and swollen wrist and ankles for up to four weeks after a bite.” i feel like dying. this venom is extremely painful and i don’t understand why i haven’t turned into spiderman yet.
stop eating at the core you panel of lights, you pulsating crudeness
your lit cigarette and dyed synthetic wrap so coiled around to clothe
the air is thin too much to to
bound denim line waving into another
falls into rainbow shadows
up
prism
down
sunk in hums
bells that swell
sine inception
deep into the burn wood
plexiglass round
layers of slumber
i sick and tired of your mean spirit. can’t you just be nice for once?
recently i’ve been told i’m both cathartic and terse. i’m mostly impressed by people using such big words.
i want to drink your hair
if comic con were every day, i’d be dead.
“The bounds of a personality are not reproducible by a sharp black line,...”
– Edith Wharton
“Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into...”
– Yoda
wield your sexual prowess, in sweatpants.
not allowed to gaze into any eyes. or answer inquiries about the future.
can’t sit on any laps. let alone take naps near his open french doors.
the breeze of the spirit will transport to isolated lands. no one dares take a breath.
dried leaves crush beneath uneasy feet. something saved now only leaves a trace. a smudge.
the transient heart draws circles as forget sets in. fading to...
