*Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

I live in a room
Where all the walls are blank
At night, with their bare bones gleaming,
They hum a tune,
The sound rocks my bed to and fro.

And when the daylight breaks,
The streams of sunlight
Come in a shade of gurgling laughter,
Into the very bosom and comfort of my bed.

Every night,
At the beginning of my trek into sleep,
The ceiling rises
And then falls
With the rising and falling of my chest,
And the wheeze
And the sigh from my lips,
Is in sync with the walls as we bend and breath.

I live in a room
Where outside the city shifts in the weight of a busy schedule,
He squirms in the discomfort of an acid-rot belly,
In his consumption of far too much black coffee.
But he is gorgeous,
His skin a pale concrete,
Dirty garbage filling up his spidery streets.
A full head of unkept coniferous parks,
Runs in splotches,
Like malignant cancer,
Down the neon nightlife of his vapid limbs.

mostly good
settled in and moving
sleeping sound
drama over little stumbles
happiness in spurts
big hearty laughs
and long silent thoughts.


( something from a month ago )

12:51!

i get about 0.02 seconds of free-time here, but i want to send letters, so, TELL ME WHERE YOU LIVE!

cause im not physic.

"look there,
see why arent you here?"
loud mouths pass hot air
stealing smoke which curls u[,
and with your hair.
Later on,
loud voices droned out from their headphones,
speaking melancholy whispers.
Ripped threads of lives lived,
and personality gone.
Shes known for a long time,
its not the man,
its what was in that man which ties them all together.
And he was there,
guts boiling
exposed and pooling in sandy beaches.
And mixing in with the dew of mornings,
a silvery film
enveloping each thorn and blade,
saliva running cool,
in oceans
and locked lips
where you hand held.
Mixing in with dark grey rains,
until all the guts and dew and saliva,
liquid forms of green jealousy and red anger;
mingled,
they liked what was on the table,
and while they slept the past caught up
ripping off the sheets and blasting on the lights.
"BILLY WAKE UP NOW, YOUR LATE!!"

theres something about airports/planes and general that make me all emo.
aka traveling altogether.

stealing blankets/pillows/food from first class.
getting wierd stares.
tom waits on repeat.
watching half moon reflected off the Great Lakes.
flying through a long lightening storm.
-

also i wrote a elegy on Frida Kahlo - no i didnt spell it wrong, not a Eulegy, an Elegy. dictionariesaremyfriend. hahhah. if i can stay up for over 70 hours my writing would be so much better.
¿cure for writers block? = no sleeeeeep!¡

dreaming of sleep in a jungle canopy
but touching her cheek as she drifted away,
finally crawling out from her broken, deflowered cripple.
never to open the morphine eyes in waking
sitting across the dank wrinkled bed,
stroking the cold, monotone brace
something across the face, a smile
skirting the corner, a nurse in charge to moniter
and me to jump down to the street
leaving behind, a stream of little words,
to trickle down whispy thighs and pause outside my skirt, and live in my world.
painlessly float alongside feral cats
and where the Spanish babies cry
no more days filled with drug and drink
pain which struck and held her body
chopping the ever-distant portrait paintings
free of metal caskets, cages warped around her soul
"soon i shall die, and i hope to never return."
then she folds her book,
eyes fall quietly
dreaming of sleep in a jungle canopy.

...also:(not an Elegy)

i came to the lake
surging with an urge of hellbent conviction
tearing off constricting
weaves and messes
snapping shut sunglasses.
a childs face playing across mine.

sending the articles
crashing, with indolent sparks
too rocks and boulders below.

she watched
perched awkwardly
lighting a second pack of slims
gawking at the flash of womenly flesh i had become
i swung and slowdanced
with the low moon
her cast of stars.

before tossing myself too the lake
a tearing splash,
surfacing,
giggling,
and soaked too the core.

Happy 05-05-05!!!!

it wont happen again until....3005

so today my aunt in Lima-Peru had another baby (4th), and named her Mira (she asked me first a couple days ago...)!! A day after my Birthday and named Mira....im...an aunt too? i dont know, im so pyshed! im taking so many pictures in addition to all the others im planning on taking of her and me when i go down there (only 20 days left??) eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

SOMEONE STOLE MY PURSE/CELL/CREDIT/CAB/CDSTORECARDS+ALLOTMORE=IAMGOINGTOKILLKILLKILLTHEM AND MIGHT I ADD MY NEW SUNGLASSESSE WHICH I LIKED ALLOTALLOT.

the best time of year is when spring is coming....no more snow, but probley more rain.

Free Write = No Ending:

She turned the corner, and glared into the gloom. With her hand fidgeting, with the hem of her skirt she searched for a knife. Or maybe something threatening. Feeling nothing, she paused, before directly walking ahead. The fog was white like christmas; untame, upturned tree roots tripped her. Hours past, she opted it was more. Feeling her way from tree to tree. Reasoning she might as well shut her eyes tight and very loudly yell. The fog and the gloom rolled in thick, than thin; but no matter where she looked, it was a sheet of white. Screaming with weary eyes; she tore at her throat, before collapsing into a heap, and a very deep sleep. She awoke, never opened her eyes again, and continued on in her forest. With the wispy curls of malicious fog, sweet whispers from tree's aching limbs.


--


things are really wierd right now;
if i am certain of anything it is that i am uncertain about everything.
and im so sure being entered into another Seattle 1-mile race is something to look forwards too.

There was a tinkling of cutlery on the kitchen floor She did not hear it As she was already caught off balance. -- Determined And dressed to the nines You sprung beanstalk legs To faster climb The stairs to the balconey UpUpUp In a matter of four months Your mind old, mechanical Skin blessed with a golden afterglow At the top The top of your game With nothing but Sunrises; sunsets Large full-blue moons And watching all the others

Meandering up thier own staircases of time. -- We won it all So we took it all. -- He had glitzy-glitter eyes Sometimes they were green; When he came over Drunk, forlorn and falling like knives Sometimes they were slate grey; When he did not talk, When he was prone to look away But when i first met him Again when i left him They were tousled masses; A straight road to the night. -- Spin around cherry He is the chocolate Melting into you; savouring your shoulders Smothering exhuastion

TalkingTalkingTalking -notice the lights from his throat With painted nails Until you have to go home Very slight like; sit in bed Sweat, with all the lights on. Shiver; with all the blankets gone.

slowly im uploading Florida pictures that i/other people took ->

moon the loon

liquid lips
smeared over,
acid tears
and a cork board for the sky;
kid with the felt-glove hands
stroking over a newborn robin
brushing gently,
over bulbous and lifeless eyes
whining to his mother,
around the corner;
weeding fields of dandilions
wiping at her dripping head
and pushing the child to his side
"My Dear! Dont be silly! Dead things are not to touch!
Honey you will catch a dreadfull flu!"
..."now run inside and have some oatmeal cookies i've made for you."

----

her eyes;
were smokestacks of dusty coal.
his limbs;
were broken
but much closer to repair.
bedsheets, which she wrapped herself into
were laden with weeks-old
indigo smears of mascara
every bus which he rode
smelt to him of sickly sweat;
until finally, he retired, and adopted a bike
lullabys -she sung herself to sleep
inside her coffin of galaxys far away
upon registaring his former disgust,
he drew upon himself to witness each wonder of the world
beginning at 9pm tomorow, and in the order of a backwards alphabit.
and for lack of better thought,
both were absent-mindedly dismissed