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Days go by—gentle as a lamb with a lion’s head—but time doesn’t exist in the nights we spend alone. I’m forcing the river to flow, and I’ll keep it going until I pull this thorn from my side. You’re in the back of my mind—a time bomb ticking like a cheap clock—becoming accustomed to the force pushing you ahead. “Stay with me . . . “ Is that what you said? As if I could depart. Still, you’ve left a mark on the monument of my heart like acid rain as I lay here charmed and corroded.

A sharp blow might tell me something different than would time, so should I wait? Or should I re-align my insides? Could we justify the actions? Or would your reaction flood into me? I would die for you, but I’ve never wanted anything less than this. Just one kiss from a lover’s fist . . . (deliver the blow) No one will know. Anti-anxiety could fly free if the water runs red and warm, but even in capsule form; it can’t do too much harm . . .

Untitled

here's a hint of my confession--

I'm crossing out the words, but the shape of your complexion marks a hole inside the earth.

The shaking of my spine hints towards a bit of poetry,

but the weight of all the waiting has touched a part of me.

(but devils have come too soon,

beckoning now like a stolen child,

her phantom casts a shadow through you)

All is vanity

You show so much, but still remain a mystery.

I used to know the shape of your vanity--the weight of your obsession--but I sold it too short. Too much could never be enough when city noise cuts off progress, but I hate the way you dress and the colour of your eyes up against the horizon line.

When the sunset moves from hilltops to skyscrapers, it's too apparent that we're not together. Those ten minutes could be bliss if it was all we needed to live, but you still have your center stage dreams. You're raising the temperature 100 degrees while I'm chasing ivory keys... (do you think about it? do you think of me?)

The acoustic hanging in the air won't get us back to anywhere, but where do we belong? Locked inside a compromise; a systematic complication (flirting with my irritation). If I could play it off as an easy mistake you could call me a liar with every breath that you take. You said you would have stayed away if only you knew, if only you knew I'd understand the way I do.
But I'm begging you to listen. To hear.

I need you to believe in me when my face burns and stomach turns and my voice can't help but shake.

Brooklyn keeps you standing still, but it's only a test of will. Will I really love you? Best wishes, I do, but I'd tear you apart with these matters of the heart, and baby . . . that's not what I choose.

"Haemoglobin," by Placebo

I was hanging from a tree
unaccustomed to such violence
Jesus looking down on me;
I'm prepared for one big silence.

how'd I ever end up here?
must be through some lack of kindness
and it seemed to dawn on me:
haemoglobin is the key to a healthy heartbeat.

at the time they cut me free,
I was brimming with defiance.
doctors looking down on me--
breaking every law of science.

how'd I ever end up here?
a latent strain of colour-blindness
then it seemed to dawn on me--
haemoglobin is the key to a healthy heartbeat.

Now My Feet Don't Touch The Ground.

as they drag me to my feet,
I was filled with incoherence
theories of conspiracy--
the whole world wants my disappearance

I'll go fighting nail and teeth;
you've never seen such perseverance!
gonna make you scared of me,
cause haemoglobin is the key.

haemoglobin is the key to a healthy heartbeat.

Now My Feet Don't Touch The Ground.

Bruise Pristine

Have you ever had one of those moments before?
Where your vision cracks over in purple, and recollection dissipates
infection overrides perception, and suddenly you're on the floor?
When your world changes place and fades to defiance,
and your complexion abates beneath a pale colourstain?

Bahaha!

I don't study. I don't research. I throw papers together and hand them in without revision. And this is what it gets me:

15/15

"Wow! Your writing is astounding! Thank you for creating a well thought out essay. Bravo!"

Christ, I love college.

A bitter-sweet Cascade

When something doesn't work out, when things don't go the way we'd wished (with every fiber of our being, we wished!), our world comes crashing down. Every time, the heartache stings just as badly, if not worse than the time before. It doesn't matter how often your heart is broken . . . weekly, monthly, yearly, or daily . . . It makes no difference. It always comes again.

If you're going to take a life, take the time to notice.

I saw a woman hit a robin with her van today.
She didn't even fucking notice; she was on her cell phone.
And that robin lied in a crumpled mess in the middle of the road.

"Hey Ainsley?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember Edgar Allen Poe?"

"Yeah."

"Remember Van Gough?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't let that happen to you."

Thoennes

She was small. Christ, she was small.
Her beautiful blue eyes had been stained grey with old age,
and her bones had turned delicate over the years.
She was the beauty that time betrayed.
She was surrounded by an abounding grace I could never dream of seeing replicated.

Wednesday.

It is positively astounding how quickly things can change.
(Life long lesson, blah blah blah)

How quickly acceptance can come in the wake of panic or despair; Astounding how that knot in your stomach can be ignored and almost forgotten.


It also astounds me how disillusionment can take control of a person. And how illusionment can do the same.


How two perceptions of the same situation can be so completely and ruthlessly different.


I've got to get the fuck out of here.

illicit.

staring out a publicated window, wishing i could see what all you see
laying out the past like the distance on a map
. . . hearing your broken voice sing.

three am, but neither one is sleeping.
one of us must surely know why?
stretched across your bed; hearing your voice inside my head
but when will you ever decide?

and you keep tossing out those theories,
developing a taste for what used to be.

i've got a headache, but i've never thought so clearly.
the city lights-- a broadside through the rain
with a paler shade of blue that i half-wish i never knew
and a lifetime i wish that i could gain.

Still, i swear to you i'm not a liar. i never said a thing you didn't know.
and while you chase acoustic chords, you drink a little more . . .
hanging your, "i'd like to be alone."

And you keep tossing out your theories--
begging me to breathe, so listen to me
developing a taste for what used to be . . .

our hands are cold, but winter's almost over
with devils' sought to break these fateful nights
the sun is warm against your skin; thin but so divine.
barely dead, but babe . . . we're still alive.

dolby james

when you take away the binding,
I still have nothing left, besides this pain in my chest
and this state of unrest, but oh . . . it's just begun.
and I will not live and let live.

Broken bottles break the silence,
adding texture to an otherwise flawless night.
smooth as glass, but left in shards
like the monument of the heart
but tonight, she wants you to know
and tonight, i might just lay myself down
with a little more hope than i had.

Wine in a Soda Can

Mmh . . . God. Pack up and watch somebody else? Hold a gun to my head and force me into submission . . . force me to pay attention, or blow my brains all over this notebook page.

Maybe then the words I want will flow out of me—rampant like a disease—eating at the pigment of a memory I re-live, day to day,
but I'm not the only one.


MY HEAD IS A PIPE BOMB


There are approximately 6,808,651,482 people in the world,
Each one of them at some point feels the same stagnant monotony.


Contempt can lead to regret.


I regret nothing.

spoke

A curse I can comprehend licking my eyes
Suffering the silence of a razor denied
Open to wounding me—the disease I invoked
A merciful masterpiece; unable to console.

No one could understand when truth came alive
A single participant bound at the spine.
Far more than secret; God only knows
Too stunned to keep it, ten years below.

Now see the argument, now see the life:
Colour-covered flesh, sometimes crystallized.
Misunderstood the plea—caught unexposed . . .
The only things left were the words you spoke.