Monday, January 31, 2011

Suddenly Feeling Everything And Nothing, All At Once

Being on the verge of emptiness. Breaking boundaries, playing chicken with your heart. Givingit up and losing it all. Gaining nothing, slipping under the radar. Tripping on manipulative content and losing focus, putting all of the eggs in one basket. Killing time with razor blazers, picking apart everything you see; layer after layer, pixel after pixel, memory after memory. Getting ready to forget, wanting to forget, stumbling into a powerful feeling that has a fist to your lungs and captures your breath with every aspect of anxiety. Going a thousand miles an hour and instantly going number. A whole world you want to escape. Covering your eyes with colourful tissue paper and cinematically seeing colours, feeling colours on your lips, eye lashes, finger tips. Bombs ticking in your ears, quivering on your tongue. A space in your mind slowly filling with pressure, fustrasted and bewildered, angry and sad, feeling heavy and still feeling nothing. Nothing and everything. Am I suddenly feeling nothing or everything all at once.

Leopard Print Infinity


in a place of deep depression, dark swirls of mocha keeping vitals alive, unfocused, hyper aware. numbing moments and keeping everything silent. hushing the vibrant belief that you have housed in the possibility of love. decisions rising above pain and decisions deciding pain. locking up words, keeping them in the vault. falling apart, right at the seams. brittle celebrations chancing unhappy laughter lines, chasing the contours of ammunition. lip prints underlining a force that once guided your life and now knocks it down, kicks it down, keeps it down. life, staying down. upset and it's only getting worse. confetti filled tragedy with announcements of everlasting promises being broken like objects in a place, a place far away. holding back the emotions that well up in your eyes. leopard print infinity and i'm getting ready walk.

Problematic Consultations


fleeting stacks of cards sprawling into spaces not mentioned and the two of hearts has been broken. the queen of clubs is cat fighting with the queen of hearts and the spade is off making moments with diamonds. oh the queens. the kings are playing hide and go seek and i'm not sure what to say about the number 3, the number 4 or the number 8 who now staircase around the 6 with propaganda of 7 and 10. jacks are drinking johnnie walker and waiting for sober times to tell them all their drunken problematic consultations that aren't making sense, no aces. no aces, make ace, no dice. win some to lose some and the upset of this set is the hand that can no longer be played.

The Gun You Crave To Jump


a sudden sense of coolness has relaxed the envelope that you were so ready to push, the gun you craved to jump. a new sense of clarity escaping your mind and leaving you with absolute insanity, awake into the depths on the night and arise to the early morning slumber, slumber.. something you haven't experienced in days. hours clucking like chickens, daring you to close your eyes, embellishing details and fire working in your spine, ballooning all the time. a quick little fix of something you unaware of, so aware of, don't want to know anymore. a ping of enlightenment weighing you down, nothing light about this weight that has got you rocking unsteady, on the ledge, close to the shoulder, no looking back, always looking back, moving forward, moving left, moving right. moving moving moving, slowly.. quickly.. i can't tell. jumping into pits of knives, cutting up all ambitions, somersaulting into things i'm unsure of, unsure. unsure.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Impregnated With A Bad After Taste


pleasurable caution and cocktails of mayhem decreasing the value of your emotions, highlighting the experience, the triumph, the power. walking away. letting it go. checking out to check right back in again. the upside to this side is no side because you've been blind sided by a classic case of caramelized heart. the intensity electrifying your soul over heating your thoughts encouraging them to get under your skin. beautiful velocity urging you to move, shifting your weight from one foot to another, biting your tongue. a dance you suddenly master and then the song changes and you no longer no the steps, your moves are outdated and your lost in an oasis you've made up all on your own. a subtle detective digging into the sensuality of second guessing, a chaotic affair laced with memories and subtle affection. paper work to sign, things to omit, things to remember, things you should forget. wrapping up the idea of something once cherished and now impregnated with a bad after taste..

Crash. Crash And Burn


i might tell you something i shouldn't. then again, i probably won't because my words are clinging to the corners of my brain and trickling downward, getting caught on my tongue, clinging to my taste buds and i can't spit them out, slow slurrping to my heart and weighing themselves like the hefty women does in the privacy of her bathroom. my heart weighs heavy with the things i might tell you, but probably wont. fighting with the current of my blood they urge for a way out, locked in the vault which is my body i will not shed any light on their predicament, keeping them close to the bone i am armed to the teeth with things i might tell you but probably wont. don't hold your breathe waiting for them to sneak out into your presents because you will die, waiting for the things that i might tell you but probably won't and defnitely shouldn't. pour courage into a glass, on the rocks, no garnish, but these words can't be fueled, they are hungry for exposure but not ready to catch fire and when they do decide to burn, they will crash. crash and burn from the things that i might tell you but shouldn't and probably wont.

Doses of Desire

Suffering flurries dancing along your skin and if ever there was a moment in time, freeze frame the traces of patterns left on your skin from fingertips filled with compassion that urge to flatter you. Doses of desire, a craving that cannot be itched without your lips motioning the readiness of wall flowers blooming. A sense of belonging, and you should be here. A feeling of something you don't dare utter the words because having it vocalized could very well suck the pigment from it's roots and the pigment is what keeps the actions ever so prominent and the known secret of the phrase always just minutes away from you breathe it rests on your tongue while you kiss throughout the night and day. Starshine laminating things inside you which slowly escape through your eyes and with a vision as glorious as yours everything seems mystified, glamorized. A sudden act of faith to a subject I didn't think I believed in.

Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow


truth is, i'm scared. scared of what i could become, scared of what i am, scared of what i am becoming. scared of what i feel, scared of what i don't feel. scared of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. i'm scared of right now. scared. you would never know it. truth is, i'm curious. curious of you and me and them and us and everything inbetween. i'm curious of what i could become, curious of what i already am, curious of what i am becoming. i'm curious of what i feel, curious of what i don't feel. curious of yesterday, today and tomorrow. i'm curious of right now. curious. you would never know it. truth is, i'm optimistic. optimistic about right now and tomorrow and you and me and us and whatever could be there. truth is, you would never know it. truth is, i'm stubborn. stubborn with my feelings and my heart and my head. stubborn with where i am and where i am going. stubborn with you. stubborn. yesterday, today and tomorrow. today, tomorrow and yesterday. tomorrow, yesterday and today.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Lingering Traces




Waiting for something. You think you’ve missed your bus. Hoping for something that probably isn’t going to happen, not to you, not today, move along. Eyes searching faces for traces of prosperity but it’s gone out of season and your seasons to late for those traces to still be lingering. Heated discussions, you’re having in your head, with yourself, no one different, but you don’t dare shed light on the situation, for perspective is not what your in need of, you want out, out of the depths which lead to that dark spot in your mind, into a new sense of urgency. Hoping for technicalities which might absorb some of your faith, mold it into something stronger than hate, something to keep safe. Markings of accidental tales submerge your heavy heart into a lighter substance, and dosed in gasoline your willing to set flame to a conscience that has got you in a bind. Secrets misleading secrets. Hands trying to figure out the idea of something that just might be new, or just the same depending on your grip. Wicked stance for the crumbling personality that is pinpointing just when and where you will breakdown, strive, and survive. Try and stay alive for this is nothing but a game, no life ups and nothing to shield you from the pain. A look you cant wash off your skin. An introduction into pessimistic points of views, cloaked in tiny daggers so your alerted of the conflict your entering. Dark skies seem to line the ocean and what’s wrong is wrong and what’s right is wrong too. Feeling after captivating feeling force feeding you into a new wave place that you didn’t dress for. Gawking idealistic measuring your involvement, sizing you from afar, laughing at your mockery, an institution you weren’t invited too.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Mothers Reaching for Kleenex


A division of the here, the now, and the before. A constant personal battle filled with landmines and devilish qualities both repelling and attracting you. Moments of truth invaded with moments of realization and the moments just keep coming, nothing ever certain, nothing ever real, and everything always changing. Interlocking education and the race from rages to riches has got it’s claws in you and your not sure what to focus on.. pulsating ideas bursting against the horizon and if the sun doesn’t rise they’ll always drop an H-bomb or something so spectacular it would bring tears to the eyes of even the most skeptic. Loveless love filled to the brim with questions and regrets and more questions and reasoning and positions on the intake of the consumption of this product, this brand that has soon become a staple in your life. Mothers reaching for Kleenex while you reach for Love. Trademark, stamp that stuff and let it become illegal, passing love with blind eyes so that no one knows your position, your dosage is now off the charts and you can’t help but crave more. The here. Calling to you like a musical beat in the night, causing your limbs to shake and shimmy without the slightest notion of desire, you go along with it because you can’t help but notice how good it really feels. The now. Your addicted. Addicted to love or the summery feeling it gives your skin, not all the symptoms are cozy though.. but you knew that from your first plunge with the unsteady beat of a substance that has gone unrecognized, categorized into a sensation, a feeling, a state of mind, nothing worthy of deeming lethal, yet. The before, stumbling through memory lane, avoiding the memory bullets like acid to the tongue, you recall when the clock ticked like there was nothing to wait for except the next striking tick. The before, when your guts didn’t ache at the thought of love and when your mind wasn’t so consumed with love that you actually did stop and think about it simply as a prospect not a user. When the idea of love made you smile, when the thought was just a thought and the feelings were just ideas and the effects were the farthest away from your soul, when your soul mocked those twisted in it’s hands. When love was just love. When you were just you. Love seizing moments and taking breathes, love racing through your veins that it would take beats from your heart and create a soundtrack to the saddest movies. That’s where all the skipped heart beats go you know, bottled up and shipped to Hollywood, you can sometimes hear mine in the saddest of movies.

Monday, January 10, 2011

F a ll i n g


people falling all over the place. people falling for one another like files falling from the sky to give notice to a moment that has suddenly changed, the power of this moment is so tangible you could hold it in your hands but what to do with the intangible feelings that caress your insides.. that make you nervous when nerves should no longer be a factor. falling.. people claim they can feel it, but what is it. how does one know if they have or have not fallen.. how can one tell if that opposing team is falling at the same rate as they are. can you pinpoint their speed between each other is it constant, is it at the same rapid pace.. falling. fallen. fell. falling into habit. fallen into routine. fell flat on your face. heart picks up but does it fall and if so, why. where must the heart belong if not in it's rightful spot in the chest, keeping a steady motion alive to keep you the same. fall. f a ll i n g.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

So I Leave Behind Just a Morsel of my Soul


under the knife the pressure is weighing down on the chiseled spot that has made it's bed next to my soul. it lays tossing and turning there, forever into the rise of the sun and the hands of the night. depictions sinking it's teeth into my core, a feeling of exposure floods all of me, every sense, becoming of me and the sudden feeling of mockery washes right through me. a joke that wasn't present but knocked down all the pins, a laugh, which in the corners of my ears is still happening. a tactic so smooth that i've realized it's skillfulness, sly like a fox there is something much more deeper here. ever beautiful, the eyes of the great looks at tragedy and happiness and does not quiver from either. embarks on an oasis that felt just like a midnight's summer dream but was entirely of a different sorts, an early week's vacation that has laid it's head on my shoulder and I can still feel it's safety, it's comfortably in the contours of my body. a click of a pen that ignited the words for the page, they have a gallant affair that results in the most wild of passions, a sizable action, i'd wish to capture, to bottle and store and to keep with me in the pockets of my jackets that i can never stray from that feeling of, we'll for such moments words are no longer allowed because they would take away the actually meaning, the actual feeling that is still in me, hours have past and I have entered new slumber, awoken to new days yet i remain in a trance of yesterday, a piece of my will stay there forever, a timeless moment that words could never sacrifice for so i leave behind just a morsel of my soul.