We release our translucent patterns. Trying to touch one another. Slowly. Tenderly.
We move in whispers. The wind carrying us.
The touch - the first soft touch - we retract. Afraid. Scared. Of what we do not know.
We begin again moving closer. Gliding. Sailing.
Then our tips begin to entangle.
Then our bases begin to envelope.
Then the air thickens.
Thick. Warm. Moist
The imprinting has begun.
6/13/10
canyon
Reflection of charred skin.
Ash fires consuming our breath.
The echoing of children's tormented voices swarm.
Yet we go on knowing that there is complete uncertainity in the livestock of our lives.
Ash fires consuming our breath.
The echoing of children's tormented voices swarm.
Yet we go on knowing that there is complete uncertainity in the livestock of our lives.
Canam
It crawls beneath the burnt air.
Sliding. Swaying.
It slithers and tastes the sweetness of fresh burned babies whose ashes have been taken up by the wind.
It moves faster, getting ready to charge.
To Taste. To Eat. To Devour.
And right when she is in its path, when she is in eyesight it leaps open mouthed, teeth ready, and tongue welcoming.
Then roars and echoes of death become muted and the doves scatter soaring the thicket of dead weather.
And the grasses begin to crack.
And the animals begin to roam.
And the earth moves in silence.
Retreating to a place that no one ever goes.
And the sticky heavy scarlet runs through the dirt creating its own paths and tangents becoming pulsing veins of a dead land.
Sliding. Swaying.
It slithers and tastes the sweetness of fresh burned babies whose ashes have been taken up by the wind.
It moves faster, getting ready to charge.
To Taste. To Eat. To Devour.
And right when she is in its path, when she is in eyesight it leaps open mouthed, teeth ready, and tongue welcoming.
Then roars and echoes of death become muted and the doves scatter soaring the thicket of dead weather.
And the grasses begin to crack.
And the animals begin to roam.
And the earth moves in silence.
Retreating to a place that no one ever goes.
And the sticky heavy scarlet runs through the dirt creating its own paths and tangents becoming pulsing veins of a dead land.
6/9/10
4.12.10
As we drank our sorrows away, we knew.
This goodbye would change.
This goodbye would change.
4/28/10
write about death
Death is the guy who shows up to the party when no one has invited him.
He's the drunk asshole in the corner hitting on all the girls that pass him by.
He's the guy that thinks he's cool because he's wearing all black and he's got a suckle but he's not.
He's not Johnny Cash. He's not Clint Eastwood.
He's a guy with a very big complex issue.
Someone should interview him, get his side of the story.
Maybe then he won't be the asshole in the corner but the guy whose just trying to do his job.
Death is the thing you fear most even if you aren't afraid. he's the prefect stalker.
"You will not know who he is or who I am."
But he will leave you with a stain upon your heart.
So that you never forget.
That he is the only thing is guaranteed.
He's the drunk asshole in the corner hitting on all the girls that pass him by.
He's the guy that thinks he's cool because he's wearing all black and he's got a suckle but he's not.
He's not Johnny Cash. He's not Clint Eastwood.
He's a guy with a very big complex issue.
Someone should interview him, get his side of the story.
Maybe then he won't be the asshole in the corner but the guy whose just trying to do his job.
Death is the thing you fear most even if you aren't afraid. he's the prefect stalker.
"You will not know who he is or who I am."
But he will leave you with a stain upon your heart.
So that you never forget.
That he is the only thing is guaranteed.
coming to life
She screams into an empty room.
She beats her fist on the floor.
She wails and screams.
She throws her body against the wall.
And then she wakes up next to a man.
She beats her fist on the floor.
She wails and screams.
She throws her body against the wall.
And then she wakes up next to a man.
4/17/10
“1984”
Renegades torch Flamed bodies piled to make human monument graves
Crack Clash Clack goes the gunfire
One by one they fall
People yell to stop
People stand by and watch
The mourning sorrowful melody begins to play
Weeping Crash Dying Crack
The man raises his pistol to the foot soldier’s face
Silence envelopes the mountain terrain.
Crack Clash Clack goes the gunfire
One by one they fall
People yell to stop
People stand by and watch
The mourning sorrowful melody begins to play
Weeping Crash Dying Crack
The man raises his pistol to the foot soldier’s face
Silence envelopes the mountain terrain.
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