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[05 Jul 2008|12:13am] |
So few words, but every syllable possessed by one such as you is never wasted, quite unlike most whom use words so wastefully, yours is as if both life and earth are combined in one, a portrait of soul. I wander around, as if curiously caught in a nocturnal exhibition. I want you to know that even in short paragraph, you contain this undefinable lost art, this ablity to catch feeling and to design it to your own, to touch without even barely grazing the page.
Entire leaves of a4 turn at your fingertips, at the utterance of a mere word, with you, less is more. My compliments, not easily attained, so succinctly spill from my lips because you have supressed wonder that is so rare, so deeply rare in such a weary, monotone, colourless earth.
That is it for tonight. My gut burns with alcohol.
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[05 Jul 2008|12:31am] |
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Words reduce, simmer, evaporate, desires mix with fears, memory, feelings not given name. No love letters delivered, are never returned, gifts not given. Validation lies stuck with a knife, sucked lips become little recompense. Fingers across brows become tainted, whisky hides the glow. Glass twirling on bar is only comfort for one, and never at all an answer for two. Streets where once were thickened with glow are now dark, maps wiped out, blurred are old pictures, she bit off the heads when she got them developed. Like discarded fish, she threw back into the ocean all those rare catches, so now you don't mean a thing when the net comes back in.
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[05 Jul 2008|10:44am] |
He is Bob,
eager for fun.
He wears a smile.
Everybody run......
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It's going to rain today. This is good, because it washes away the stinking, slithering shit of this sticky horrid sun. I am a soul who loves wrapping up in clouds and thunderstorms. My love for other people's bad weather makes me possibly abnormal, but I do not care. This is great!
Saturday comes and it will go, and hopefully I shall survive it.
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[05 Jul 2008|04:06pm] |
It's an astonishing thing to admit to you, but Saturday has so far been serene and utterly tolerable. Even though it hasn't rained, yet. Not yet.
Let's hope that this vein continues. Tonight shall no doubt be a test. Blood donation Thursday, which means I have to go to fucking Ramsgate. Can I give blood again at Minster in October? Or will I have to go somewhere else again? It's the goddamned fourteen week thing, you see.
Next month is holiday. I haven't ruled out hopping on a plane and going somewhere. I have so many possibles, and yet, none.
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[05 Jul 2008|04:48pm] |
tingling feet dip
into the water,
dark glows around
my ankles,
drowning angels
play for time
amid your lips,
and the devil
swats them from mine.
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[05 Jul 2008|04:50pm] |
Arising fingers break through,
my hips are heavy with you,
we lie in nature and park,
the car somewhere else,
after dark,
headlights light up our path,
but we don't need to come back for a while,
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[05 Jul 2008|04:50pm] |
Please bear with me, i'm writing some little pieces, because I like sometimes just writing some little pieces and not thinking about what they are or mean. I'm sure you lot understand.
My idea is to write whenever i'm listening to music, or the sounds outside my window. There are shots ringing out amongst the corridors.
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