what must fade falls in place

honestly october
december is where it's at

let's look at some solstice history!

(broken heart but not anything. not broken. nothing. such happiness. in ...)

texas!
oh nevermind


bruma bruma bruma
brooja linweed
single pattern fake father
listen

they said that when
when
oh when

i guess i'll try

death winter scales IM A SNAKE

to my friend will:

it would be easy to talk to you
but your face looks like a monster in my memory
it's not even you
i'm not myself

you're a memory

i wish i could talk to you, but  there is nothing
nothing inside my chest
no fire
no wind
just some coals


there is however something in my belly
that burns blue light

i don't know what it is

and when i open my mouth
i feel inescapable air
throat implodes on itself
i have nothing to say

but i wish we could talk

there would just be nothing to say

because nothing happened
and there is no fertile ground for understanding
when i walk across
it dips into the soil

mellowness

white mallowness

no form

nothing

my breath for you is gone, as if it never was
and winter frozen words

die

perhaps to be reborn in spring

until then
only the slump of a fading sorrow, that screams
NOTHING
at least not enough to breathe

if feelings could speak they'd say nothing
because they are made of nothing
and one cannot hold up something so ethereal
as an invisible FUCK YOU
with no front nor back
no sides
its form conforms to too many thinkings
and loses reality
there are no words

and these swords are made of dreams
so even as they are sinking never appeared
to be
much like this whispy weather anyhow

frilly stain

frilly stain: it's okay
frilly white, nO, stained white- under-shirt, dress, ballerina wrapped lacey nightgown covering a ball of red fabric, covering a ball of indeterminable size and texture.
and they hold it in them arms, with their fingers clasped.
i mean it.
broken fingers backwards on conrete, winter dry skin itch, cracked lips....
i can't hardly open wide.
meadowy music in lime green light comes through the window of white/cold/branches. and makes stale the air, in such sharp contrast, with the mundane acts that come and go through the apartment.
nothing is happening.
freeze. _________. FReeZe. I SAID FUCKING FREEZE.
goddamn professional asshole. professional hole-in-the-heart/hole-in-the-head/in one, that breaks when it falls. lotsa tiny pieces. sugar crack fairy.
the pencil lays very still. it is long, and placed parrallel to the edge of the chair/desk/screen. i play with it. with my mind. it moves. it rolls off. it falls. makes a sound. this is enjoyable to me. i pick up the pencil and place it on the chair/desk/screen again so it is parallel to the edge but doesn't roll off. i use my mind to do that. it falls off. i do it again.

Text: is so texture screams VANITY screams.
just screams. indistinguishable sounds. creatures scratching at the inside bones that face yer organs. crawl up against yr lungs and beg for forgiveness. NO NO NO.
just stay the fuck put away.
here's some water. yeah i'll feed you in the evening. we can go out for a walk later. and you better shit this time, i don't want to see that crap inside again.
Text: is the blessed divine watering of these fingers. self-heal-all kind of water that in its flow outward, creates a flow inward. like making string and singing.
breathe in and you breathe out. it's all the same.

Please. Believe me. When I say how bad I need you to forgive yourself.
How bad I need you to see yourself as I see you. ALL BEATIFUL.
NO UGLY.
How badly I need you to bare yr soul for everyone to see.
No mark can cause shame.
even lies now, i understand a bit better. a bit. for this beggar.

i beg you.

it would help me so much. to see you shiny.

like running through cracking and flaking off shingles of reality visually fielded
in multi-color glow.
so thick and colloidal. so burdensome on my chest.
with every shame and embarassment you feel, another layer of mica is added on. and ya it's all shiny opalescent and see-through. but after so many layers.. it cleaves so deeply. rough cut.

it's okay.
i mean it.
she takes the red ball and holds it close to her chest.
she licks the red ball, and the fabric falls to the ground.
it is hollow and made of cardboard.
not so smooth or rough.
and she holds it to her chest.
hoping it will scratch something inside
said, frilly coffee-stained white, so solidly

look here
i will shut you out of my life
because you don't have time for me


lookee here
i'm afraid of you
if i hand you flowers, will you witht he other hand chain my wrists?

it's like. i hate you. but you're my mother, and i also have this innate need to be near you.

what does it take?

i really upset my mom today

OPPiio

what not a sign time and in chimes

wat frog you got der?

what a little froggy.

it is cold and lonely there.

dark and i don't want to go home.

but inside my pockets

a picket line

of white south africa

laughing on the bed

in HIS room

cause we are all male

made is HIS image

jesus was an anarchist

mega churches make me tighten my abdomen in fear

i like basements & wine

no one really knows how to believe that maybe just maybe

there is something

and maybe you won't ever get it

but there is goodness

and well-intentioned words and syllables

can't always get thrown away

Im in love.

i can feel it.

nothing can harm me.

im  golden fairy.

i fly and im dirty.

it;s okay a little birdie told me

one of these days

rain away yer eyes out

i love you so much

i dont even know you

we all have issues

like running rolling toilet paper

maybe it was just a misunderstanding

your war that finger on my nose

im not just a wizard.

im not just sad.

i'm an angel.

i'm not just angry,

i'm not just crass.

this blood is mine ya know

i'm a golden fairy

ya kno

poem from 2008

if hard and soft are both concrete
i would rather be between
that there perhaps, elastic uncertainty
a mushy mixture
chaotic rest
coagulation
of the non-exist
i love it
me, us, ours, mine
three, four, four, five
sufferring aching pride
choice upon choice upons sands of choice
moist     carefull    full    let --
All surround
My self
my selfish, self-nurtured ego--
shell, unbounded hell
hell, caked below waves
bouncing jelly paves of ways
orificing out & through
between me and you and he and me and you

to lucy and lazers

a least there is that.

a hat for me hanging on the coat rack when i come home, take my shoes off, and enatly tuck them away into the corner next to the others.

push the shoes up against the wall... covers up the cat litter container with my urine in it from when i was afraid to go to the bathroom in the dark.

from when i was afraid from when i was afraid from when i was

just beginning! she said with a grin, "am i a girl a boy? there ARE only two choices."

hairs split to remind her, those were just words. and that question is not easily answered. because the body hangs around like a ghost, i fall to remember my face. i scream, touching my tears with my blindess to my wrinkles.

"am i old? am i old yet? am i disappeared on these steps?'

just another crackhead(?) winding down for the night on my front porch while i sleep above them deep in dream-sleep, waking occasionally to the tossing and turning of a never-settled mind... and as I wake, the sounds of muttering and anger-plans and requests to ladies who have something better to do... comfort me in my alone time, unlike the lantern and the blanket, the small couch i sleep on, the blinds. they do nothing.

the street lamps though noxious make me feel not so alone. the cackling. the intimate conversations on the street-side. the smoker's pull to the outside air. is my air. is what all i breathe.

and in the morning i try to figure my way through the lock of space and time i've got myself into.

is this a business?

are we in it. to win it?

not gone.

still breathing.

i beg for something to touch my bones so my hands do not go flailing another night across some fae's chest to grab onto a single heart beat.

no matter how much i love you. (the you-know-who-) i cannot stumble blindly through fogs of retreat.

for i have been to the forest

you see.

and i have tasted of the berries, you see.

and i have stepped in the muddy moss.

and i know what it feels like to grow.

and my funeral so over

i forgot, and at this moment remembered, i was re-born.

but now i remember that i had forgotten.

so what will tomorrow or tonight be like now?

i can believe. it is all new.

if i wanna.

there is  alsight dimming light that beckons one's bloody throat if you sneeze you might miss yer chance to not let it swallow you

Oh swell worried stories and dreams of poetries on paper and publishing rampant and forgetful words


If i can just get a job a lick a stick a hat I could write poetry in my free time. BUt my fingers so stumbling call me back and the mask that olympia was cannot be forgotten for the facing of true ills and woes. Like magnetic blood red sticky hands that grab and grasp and choke and flatter walls so flat falling over top of each other creating new walls.

I think I had forgotten to write. i had long forgotten to read,
words are dim and no one understands.
But the true worth for me to write for myself is rmebered today

at least there is that.
and the knowledge that i am not truly depressed.

Maybe the future holds.. so many different places I can imagine.

and it is not entirely torture that i bring myself to this place
of origin

because there is something, i know, of worht here , it is worht gold, and is much sought after

it is under mounds of dirt and sin and memories of shying away from reality of what you do and do not want
of what you did and did not accept
and reality rings that we are much more free when we are alone


so maybe i just want to be alone


THENEDDDDDEND

KBYE :D  kuwaii

squig