Log in

No account? Create an account


Sep. 20th, 2004

04:23 pm - my tummy says ow

hate is all around
this lovely week of acid
turning in my gut.

i pretend that my
haikus are made of spray paint.
i am a rebel.

one could say that i
am paid to depress myself,
but i say it's them.

if only english
weren't a cunt of a language.
at least, i think so.

like all red, white, blue.
one half hour to pass before
9 to 5 is done.

Jul. 27th, 2004

12:22 pm - tangents joined by time

If you want to grow, grow up
Obesity infects even the architecture of this world
Parallel lines
Or rungs on a ladder?
I finally found my closet
My space
It's always extravagant
But it's really just broken lines
Creation's too powerful
And so few have control
So they hand it over
to politicians, family and God

But my world is my own.
free webpage hit counter

Jul. 23rd, 2004

04:21 pm - untitled

There's nothing like the shade of a tree
Stand beneath a building
and the heat still rapes you
Crawls inside
Quickens your breath
Makes you sweat
But it's a heavy, forced red

Nothing you enjoy

Even these cyborg trees
Half flesh/half machine
Can be the cool breath of a lover
Who knows you're soon dying

Sometimes, I see myself that way
Having lived my first bit
a step from death
Choking on hotdogs, jolly ranchers
and rootbeer floats
Mirrors shattering around me
Falling asleep at the wheel
And caring too much about boys
and making dad proud

Jan. 6th, 2004

07:37 pm

I wish I would've kissed you more
Where your shoulder curves to neck
With the warmth of your flesh above
Adored Spine
Mingling, multiplying
With heat from my breasts
I press closer still
My leg to your leg
My hand to your breath
A turning wrapping arching blending
Death to loneliness

I wish I would've gazed longer
At closed eyes and subtle moves of sigh
While nails and tips of hands
(pleading me
at least an inch of this to taste for keeps)
Explored the silk terrain of low
Digging, breezing
To tingle up and weave through
The dark (in a good way) jungle
Nomads knowing life is motion
And all is equal thrill to feel

I wish I would've demanded space
To escape at first connecting us
And to it binding fear and silence
Hands of yours I wouldn't leave
Dangling, typing
But ever tangling in mine or me
So there never was this "what if?" cloud
To buzz and bother like electric water
The question of us irrational
The pull would be impossible
If I'd given the me you couldn't keep.

Nov. 5th, 2003

04:40 pm - Hazy Passion

Every flash of hazy passion
Leads the question from submission
A definite scattered recollection
Of undeniable magnetism
Enticing one towards thirsting other
The slightest brush our flesh demanded
The stroke of elbows serves at first
But composes friction, a musical tension
Of beating footsteps drowned out by hearts
Irrational strings intensifying
Progressing night leads to clinging thighs
And a blissful tangled sleep

12:57 am

I wish that the static meant it was raining

Oct. 22nd, 2003

06:07 am - Maybe

The bitter breeze seems fueled by shadow
I take in the foul, salty air
Once a comfort
Now barely tolerable
This sea held such promise last spring
I rarely visit anymore
What was once my living postcard
Has been withered to a rancid, freezing, bland escape
The rotten egg we painted so nice
But never ate

Maybe I just blame it for not being part
Of the fairytale I created that morning in carmel
That perpetuated, distorted
To an unbelievable opportunity
That last month I lived in a basement
With red shelves and 3 closets

Maybe I have to realize
some games should be left to schoolyards
(I swear someday I'll go on my own, no walls needing broken
and quit finding the perfect spot for someone
to find me in
when no one's even looking)

Or maybe
Just maybe
I'm tired of pretty things
Grown weary of staring at this ocean
That I don't want to swim in
Maybe I hate the way this damn sand feels
How it invades every part of me
And never keeps the secrets i etch into it
How it's all so fucking beautiful
And every goddamned year thousands
Maybe millions
Of I don't even know what come to see
This vast, pungent beast
And the spineless counterfeit it conquers daily
The eternal struggle between something so breath-taking
No one gives a fuck who it's killed
Or the poisons it shelters
Or that it's frigid and stings
The countless particles
Each ditto-ing the next
dying, molding, hiding, pretending
Satisfied with being beautiful by association
and trampled on

Maybe even the indescribable shades of pink
Highlighting the death of the sun tonight
Wouldn't be so vibrant without pollution

Maybe we have to defeat everything we love more than ourselves
In order to never feel second best

And maybe I just don't understand what a priority is
Because the examples I've been given
Don't make any fucking sense.

Oct. 17th, 2003

05:18 am - Art is Art

I have this tendency to draw on myself
Absent minded doodles when the words fade away
I used to create elaborate works
Up and down my legs
During hours on the phone when I was in love

I have this compulsion to draw myself
Filling in the holes with fingerpaint and pens
I used to be a masterpiece in water colors
But it disolved in pink juice
When I swallowed eighteen years for dinner one evening

I have this urge to draw in myself
Taking refuge behind my knees when reason elopes with the moon
I used to be David in female form
Now flesh, at times i conceal
The despondent musings that plague some days.

Oct. 16th, 2003

06:53 am - Abstruse

There're certain things that come to mind when one sits alone too long in a dark room. Sure, the screen has the glaring glow that finally allows you to notice exactly how dirty the lens between your eye and that too bright square is (they've probably been that way for days), but you can still feel the darkness surround you.

I sail back and forth between lying on the beach and tossing myself in the waves. Some days with no urge to do anything but stretch out alone in the heat and enjoy how perfect everything is when it's allowed to be. Others, I'm drawn so far in staring at the shimmering white bite of the waves, I don't even realize when there's no sand gritted between my toes and it's more like the indifferent sea tossing me. Just enough of a shake to make me realize I'm a very tiny giant, and that I can't wander around getting distracted by shiny things with no regard to where I'm going.

This conscious living thing is growing easier and harder everyday, especially on the days I just want to dream. All it takes is a few hours (four of sleeping, in the case of tonight) for whatever feeling pleases to creep in. They don't knock and won't even say hi or who they are sometimes. Just a sneaky bandit here to get away with what it can, and screw the police, you closed your eyes.

I like sleeping when it's safe. It's part of understanding the game. If you leave yourself unprotected in the dark, you'd better have that black notebook beside your bed to record what haunts you. Or--to save on time, ink and paper--just work away the sleepness nights and slumber secure in a sun-lit bed.
No one's going to attack you in broad daylight.

There're still a few hours before I'll feel safe again. I made the mistake of smoking too much and slipped into a helpless stupor where it only feels natural to fall asleep under a thin throw completely clothed. Purposely staying in the torn jeans and this damn uncomfortable bra, even when I know I won't be leaving my room anytime soon, as an unconscious alarm set when I'm too high to remember the terror of sleeping alone in the dark.
I could barely focus on the room.
Hours later, waking disoriented with that feeling

Who knows what's askew, if anything is. It's stilll a few ticks before clarity is a tangible friend. Until then, I have this pesky whim to find the perfect word to specify what it's like for me wake like this: dark to dark, with no one near and not even a means to contact them. When it's all detached (me from me and me from all) and the recurring insect I've named "Will it Ever Change?" scurries through my thoughts before I'm quick enough to squish it.


Current Mood: discontentdiscontent

05:30 am - uncomfortable

everything's so blurry
it's 4am
and i just woke up
sickness consumes me
like the black by-product
of the day's words
said, hurt and recycled
to be a feeling, then thought, then 'nother word
or move
meant to spread the hate we planted in it
before even 1951
so it's not like it's your fault
before your religion even began
that hate was reincarnated daily
to grow and distort
to the perfect blend to make me stare warily at my bed
(this morning?)
logic screams that there's no variance
to the density of blood over water
but just stick your hands in it..
you can feel the difference

the beauty of the universe concentrated to an act
oh how stunning you give life and demand it back
since i can't see your right and wrong
it's just another ignored intention
i could live with yours as yours
and hold tight to mine
but the confusion wrapped into a selfish serpent
sliding from the hole you hide in amidst everything i do
and that's the only thing i can't stand
when you look at me like i should welcome
those poisonous teeth.
don't tell me it's only because you love me
i see your eyes gone vacant and the terror there
trying to aleviate some of the insanity
by projecting your venom to others
i can see it for what it is
it's thick like blood but more black than red.
i drank a little earlier and the nightmares
are only starting to fade now

that's the only way i can explain
i feel like a five year waking up after a bad dream
but i have no night light to show
the absense of hands and teeth poised in every corner
i have no one answering my call
and i really just want a hug.

Oct. 5th, 2003

08:47 am - the things we sleep through.

saying goodnight right before going to work
and the opposite as i head to bed
but i'm not complaining
i've never seen so many mornings

at night,
the sky, black or smoky
glitter winking down, murmuring
"you can make me whatever you want..
just stare through.."

and i do

but today i felt like i rode through a painting
or several hundred, minutely different
colors (rarely seen)
weaving through where i swear i saw the sun coming up
not even realizing it wasn't possible
until it hit my eyes from the right
blinding me and forcing the thought..
"west coast, stacey, west coast"

it rose and rose
until the sky was blue.
(who am i kidding.. just blue)
and it was time for bed.

Current Mood: impressedimpressed

Oct. 4th, 2003

06:14 pm - the art of running

In the house my dad built on a hill a mile from Oregon
With the giant heart carved in it
(no one really knew how it got there)
I felt connected

Something about being isolated above the world
With everything you could see yours
{or if it wasn't we just ventured more quietly)
That defines you

Those few years alone walking acres and miles
Between separations, 7 moves in
(screams now echoing throughout the house)
Marked the year of my escape

Too many dishes and careless words thrown
Or, if the silence hung too heavy
(only closed doors and tv sounds)
And I was gone

I assume that's when I learned the art of running.

Oct. 3rd, 2003

06:12 am - Distracted Gaze

I measured your height on a wall
To see how far to look in your eyes
Biting my lip and smiling shyly
Chin tilted, neck vulnerable
A soft sigh and batted eyes
Confusing the mist (the only other around)
As it returned my affection
Warmly as it could
And I stood pretending it somehow collects
To be at least a holograph of you
Enough to speak the words that repeat and cause
A smitten smile to consume my lips
Do you know how bitter that line usually is?
Most receive a bemused attempt to appear content
And now I'm 15 minutes gone in the middle of everything
Every tedious task half-acknowledged
Completed with that same
Distracted gaze

Current Mood: flirtyflirty

Sep. 24th, 2003

03:24 pm - remind me

back when things were perfect on the outside
and rotting on the inside i took

with heat to the degree that you had convince your skin it liked it
and every inch of you it caressed
turned scarlet and felt
slowly turning the nob to the left
so you wouldn't notice it was burning you
until it was and it couldn't be tolerated for another second

i took one of those today
sometimes i just have to remind myself
what it's like to feel

Sep. 23rd, 2003

02:59 am - warning: high voltage!

take off across the sky that refuses to focus as we stroll sharing a cigarette you don't realize it's my favorite lyric it's just in and out suck and blow while the white specks blend to sunset colored fireflies diving into snow-capped mountains that crash to an over-flowing bubble bath catching my unsuspecting toes

so i giggle and jump and smile and stare playing eye tag like discovering magnets when it turns just right how it won't let go until you rip and pull keeping turned just so they push away always away the only way

it's own sort of force not as close undeniably felt and i feel the electric sparkle of each air particle every electron of energy that crashes us connects in two from however far away

{even if no one else can tell the difference i swear i can sit still and simply feel)

Sep. 9th, 2003

01:59 am - conversations with my quiet.

sometimes the silence surrounds the house
and seems to fill this cluttered room
with such weight
that she just strips away any extra layers
and wonder what it's saying

feet on the bed
facing too many watts in the corner
continuing to ponder every step taken here
and what.

boys and drugs and sleeping and nothing
if asked wouldn't control
a goddamn thing
but what is the true winding?
behind the faint tick

"someday i will live consciously"
she said
or thought to herself but the quiet understood
"one of these days i'll be able to count
to 60 times 60 times 24
without having to start over."