Monday, September 19, 2011

A Bad Excuse Is Better Than No Excuse At All

That fragrance streaked across my good times. The rush and hush of hurried hands, tongues, and minds. Sprinkling your touch all across my body and calendar. Undetermined consequences but understandable affection and attention and a strong sense of caring and not caring. Caring for you and not about those who see it, with peering eyes but peering into the eyes whom hold care for you too. A feeding frenzy of uncontrollable like, a severe case of want and a budding sliver of need. A pressing point of pressing, me pressing into you, you pressing into me and the best slumber I've ever had. Tangible slumber that mimicked tangible times and suddenly I'm exactly where I didn't want to be but I'm starting to get the feeling that I just want to be where ever you decide to be. Shame on me. Polishing shoes, getting ready to step over and right on top of those who are in the way of what I'm feeling, because suddenly I am fleeting, and not just with the emotion but the motion in action and the time to act is now, if I don't shake and shimmy that I can't complain, a bad excuse is better than no excuse at all.

Shut Up and Talk to Me


Jumping jack emoticons and this is nothing but a text message love affair. Adding and subtracting, letters from words to make them appear less meaningful. “Luv” replaces love and “I want you”s linger on the literary disaster of “wanna chill”. Electronic hugs and kisses making up for a physical connection. Connecting to WiFi is seemingly more important than connecting with each other, on a more personal level. Charging batteries so hearts can beat longer, we are already living in a robotic age, where we have come to grip what were feeling with the buttons of a keyboard. Goodnight turning into “gnite” and good morning were a thing of the past. Chivalry is not dead mind you it has taken on an entire new form, an entire entity of wave lengths, instead of holding doors we hold Blackberries and iPhone, instead of politely saying your departure you text acronyms like “GTG” “TTYL” in a word where languages are a everywhere, we slack on the very essence of what we want to say to obtain what we want. Don’t text it to, say something to me, anything, don’t talk to me in your letters and half slacked words where you have gone an sawed off the flavor of the words. Say something. Shut up and talk to me.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Match Make You Over


The object of your eye, attainable. However, the ruins you have decided to sleep in keep you from obtaining and have you restraining from admitting just exactly what you want to admit. Full of wants. You want this and that and some of this and some of that, like Frankenstein's bride. Match make you over and keep whatever you want for spare parts. Access denied. You are disqualified because it is clearly recognized you aren't worth the trouble. Tripping on ideas, and loose ends. Trying them out for size, glistening post-its of happiness keep you reeling in more and more and the hourly addiction to whom you are attracted to begins a frenzy in your membrane and you take two steps forward to take twenty steps back and we're at exactly at the pivotal moment of walking on, moving on. The action of gathering one's pride and stuffing it into their pockets so they won't have to carry on their shoulders, and the action of pushing.. Pushing your feelings all the way down