It doesn't make sense
Not really.
An old ache with a new face
Maybe not so new...
So loved the first
That's why.
Ended my search
No reason
No reason! to leave
And since
Never a heart on my sleeve
Always
But found again, again
Different body
Same face, wasn't planned
But hoped for
And thhhhennnnnnn
ACHE
I saw with your pen
You made
A picture you posted
Book of Faces
And then
Doris Day
I saw with her pen
She made
A quiz she posted
Book of Faces
And you are ghosted
Gone.
a bushel and a peck a bushel and a peck a bushel and a peck a bushel...
I thought we were special
Post script: Boys are not "preetty", don't call them pretty, don't call my first love pretty, don't call him pretty.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
This Is A Sandy Train
It's hard for me to watch the world move past from where I'm at for when we travel on trains at night the light from inside traps the illusions and a parallel world obscures reality so no matter how hard we try, we always see ourselves reflected in what would otherwise be the truth.
Photo courtesy of Brian Richard Walker
Photo courtesy of Brian Richard Walker
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
My Boy, Boy Lilikoi
Elle woke up.
White white white white white white white white white white white white white white
and it was everywhere.
She had been dreading this moment all autumn long. The cold, the grey, the wet, the death, the loneliness... it had seemed far too much for her to hold inside her chest. But so much had changed this past week, a whirlwind of metamorphosis and she scarcely felt like the same person.
Mawkish, that is what it all sounded like when she wrote it down and counted it out but it was the truth nonetheless. Elle wouldn't have to hold it all, wouldn't have to swallow winter by herself this year. The ache inside from the bitter cold was melting from a warmth she hadn't felt in a long time.
Untitled 7 to Boy Lilikoi.
Jónsi
White white white white white white white white white white white white white white
and it was everywhere.
She had been dreading this moment all autumn long. The cold, the grey, the wet, the death, the loneliness... it had seemed far too much for her to hold inside her chest. But so much had changed this past week, a whirlwind of metamorphosis and she scarcely felt like the same person.
Mawkish, that is what it all sounded like when she wrote it down and counted it out but it was the truth nonetheless. Elle wouldn't have to hold it all, wouldn't have to swallow winter by herself this year. The ache inside from the bitter cold was melting from a warmth she hadn't felt in a long time.
Untitled 7 to Boy Lilikoi.
Jónsi
Friday, December 4, 2009
A Ghost (of) You
Christina (Sara) log: I offered my good friend Ghost Of (Curtis) some bananas today. I was really hoping to just sit down and eat a banana with him, talk and you know, just get to know him a little bit better, but he didn't want a banana. Said they were too green for his taste.
Ghost of
Psychedelic Furs
Ghost of
Psychedelic Furs
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