Monday, February 28, 2011

Shopping At The Thrift Store Called Life


association, smeared together like mascara on the wrong body parts - unnecessarily foolish. a spork with the ambitions of being a knife, cutting edge rebellion and a deep shade of wrong mesmerizing like a smoking red lip of a busty women in the cold of the night. beautiful horrors have you dressing the part and cancelling appointments, running away from where your suppose to be at exact times and jumping into moments dark as black holes, you feel comfort surround you in an instant. a weight of fashionable ugly removed from your closet and you feel sad, a little emotion went into that but you can shake it off, step into the world for you are hunger, savour the enjoyment - enjoy being enjoyed - enjoy one another. shopping at the thrift store, that is what life is. you meet people who other people have thrown away, are angry at, who have never even looked at one another, you meet people and you find them charming, you wish to have them in your life. friendship, relationship, companionship - as if your shopping out at sea, what ship do you want. and in this thrift store called life, you find what other people have loved, what other people have not loved, what you will love.. and while you make your way to the check out at this thrift store called life, checking out ships and building ships along the way, you arrive in this amusement park you don't remember gaining entry into and you have the time of your life.

Friday, February 18, 2011

A Fix To Cure All Fixes


Give me a fix. The severity of my reaction is deciding actions without me being present. Give me a cure. To replenish the heart ships that are approaching, you can feel them in the raise of sun that slice across my skin in the afternoon, exposing me to the reality of it's heat. Give me a fix. Thirsting for a drink of you, consumed by your charm, a pray I will have to repeat a billion times to feel an inch of security. Blessed me, for I have sinned and I'm sinning every day. Let's rejoice, share in the hard times, reflect on the emotions that lay across our hearts and beat rapidly on our minds, forever a thought, forever a feeling. Give me a hand. For I am falling off the edge accidentally on purpose and it's inspiring and sad, time is a killer thing - an accessory for murder and it just happens to fit right in my clutch. Loving into overtime, give me hope in my despair and try not to belittle the blooming pride that has lightly coated my desire, my passion. Give me a fix. A beautiful object to wither between my fingers, to curse and praise upon to throw in anger and worship in times of happiness. A confusion of epic proportions, the downfall of plenty and rise of hearts like a poker hand bleeding for the win. Give me a fix. A fix to cure all fixes.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

How Much For Your Time


time has got your back up against the wall. it's now or never. time, got you thinking about it. conceited little voice of time has hypnotized your mind and covered your heart in silk, locked it up. time, sinking your battleship. the hands of time gracefully tie you up and place you in a vault. bad timing, good timing. time is just an illusion you have let get under your skin, an illusion that will keep playing with you. it's never a "good time" it's never a "bad time" take a risk, fly. jumping on time like it's going out of style; never having enough, always having to much. time after time we continue to blame time, the perfect escape goat to whatever happens to be on your mind, toying in your heart. time comes up and quickly slips away, losing track of time. time is like a hangover, results could vary* waiting for the opportunity to strike time out, but still, time clicks at the noose that you've lightly placed over your schedule. time is killing us. time is taking away our love. and as times do change every know and then how much for your time?

Love, Like Suicide, A Self Induced Action


settling for less. wanting more. craving desire. passionate attention paying nothing but remorse to the brittle reality of something larger than life. snake and ladders, words sharp as knives, waiting for the floor to give out. counting black sheep and never getting any rest. anger sprinkled with flavor and the essence of clarity is being clouded with the essence of judgement, heart and mind with not decide, working against each other - breaking spines. throwing the covers over weathered faces, forgetting this, exploring other places. catching hope and pocketing faith, losing your religion in a beautiful place. ghosts kissing your head while you sleep with the dead, and all the night is alive while contemplating lies slither above and beyond the substance you wish would comfort your tired soul. bare legs on a cold Canadian day makes hearts race and flutter, eyes holding onto seconds of pleasures and begging for an everlasting moisture to sooth unbreakable times. shoveling fear into a pit of despair and silently wishing you were there, here, anywhere but here. cloudy temptation screaming your name, alluring adolescents playing games. ticketed paradise, admission never free - searching the creases of a heart beat to secure something that cannot be seen. love, like suicide, a self induced action.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

To You


no encryption. you know who you are. that is enough.

Symmetry On The Lapse Of A Heart Beat


a quick blur of your senses and you've lost all ambition, if you had any it's gone - tossed to the back seat of your beater and it's feeling like summer sweetie. munching on urgency and the game is over, the time has come. struggling with a feeling that has bloomed in your mind and you aren't ready, never will be so retract, recoil back into the space you long to rest in, long to stay apart of. the whole wide world scarring you while we're zooming in pleasurable tragedy, you think staying away will keep you safe, long shot sugar. missing out a great thing and pieces of your mind will soon penetrate your soul and you will not be able to level up, replay, zombie killin' madness this is no game. junk food store trying to process health into your system. racing around the vegetation with a little gripe of happiness and you cant manage while you try to manage. looking for symmetry on the lapse of eart beat, breaking apart the pieces of my mind on the end of a sugar rush the beginning of a fabulous evolution.

Blows To Your Stamina


configuration of a silent quest. sudden thoughts on rights and wrongs. black and white victories drowning in a sea of grey. simple matters drawn out, dragged along in a slow motion. quivering hearts fall to a motionless matter, taking up space between the lungs. the rise and fall of the chest only reminding it of it's slow death, it's absent win. motivations in a twisted direction and a constant pain nibbling on your heels. shoes sincerely grounded and hands has heavy as suitcases, packing up your life and moving onward, out of sight out of mind, but you can't stop looking in the mirror. blushing lips and consequence. glue back your memories, the ones you threw in the fire, poked about and hoped would evaporate into air on another planet you would never have to feel their readiness ever again. mixed pleasures and willful stares, trying to pry off clothes with just your eyes. silly ambitions in a dream of dreams and misunderstanding understanding. bottle caps clogging pipe dreams and heels getting stuck in sewer drains. pushing something that doesn't want to move, encouraging someone who just doesn't want you. the crash of nothing on your everything causes heavy blows to your stamina. suddenly feeling the turn of the century in your guts and your breaking free from glory. sweeping power under the door mat and pretending to be vulnerable in a time of vulnerability. not remembering your name, whats my name. moral fiber clashing with your senses. overjoyed thoughts leaving your body with a glow and your knees a little wobbly. questioning questions wishing wishes in your direction and your unaware of just how much beauty you hold in your lips.