example

ode to my long hair

despite the numerous times i've washed them since i got my hair cut, i still find long hairs in my clothes. they remind me of why i cut my hair in the first place: so there would be less of me to spread around. i can't afford to loose too much of myself: eventually there will be nothing left. i manage to pull the hair out and let it drop in the subtle november spring breeze that has picked up on this absurdly warm day
"be free" i think "don't make your way into anybody's coffee- that wouldn't be nice"

"breath in, inhale vapors from bright stars that shine"

i dreamed last night that i couldn't sleep. talk about bad news- if i'm asleep, i at least want to enjoy it instead of freaking out, thinking that i'm counting sheep when i'm really deep in REM. This is probably one of my favorite songs "what'd you do last night? we did, um, two whole cars..." "the new moon rode high in the crown of the metropolis, shining like 'who on top of this?'" ahhhh,,....so beautiful and perfect and like everything i always figured music should be like- i wonder why- it's not like it's my reality- it's more like it's that dark heart beat that lives in every molecule of me- something gypsy and unknown- lost- shunned- throbbing.
"so much on my mind that i can't recline"
there's a girl in one of my classes that i can't stand and she makes me feel like a bad person because she drives me so crazy- i just wish she'd think sometimes a little more than how much it seems like she thinks.....
"for trees to grow in brooklyn, seeds need to be planted..."

"everytime you turn around your soul gets sold"

it's been a long time since i've felt this kind of energy surging through me- like i might tremble to the point of extinction , i might fall apart if i can't figure out where the seems are to go about suturing them up- making sure the stuffing fits in nicely- I can't hold the glue long enough in my hand to put it in the necessary places. it's all spilling out from the sides and hissing on the burning coils of heat all around and its hissing and hissing and hissing and spurting and the burns are getting in my eyes (and i wish i could see how it burns) and the burns are getting in through the cracks (and i wish i could feel how it burns) and the burns are everywhere like scabs on an old mans head- the kind that flake and you don't want to look but you're also curious as to how that happens and whether or not it will happen to you. it is this kind of energy the kind that makes me dance to songs i can't stand just so i can hear that can feel that creativity that people pour out over pianos and drum sets and her eyebrows are so tattoed there and the circles on his cheeks make me want to get lost in something warm- like maybe her touch and i want to lose myself in her lips and to feel my fingers slip into that waterfall of things i can't possibly understand because nobody makes me feel that way i want so badly to make her feel. and he kisses like there's something i'm not telling that he wants to find out. and i'm scared of the way that is- how you can just say "i like you" and have it mean something- and the other kisses me out in public and wants me to rub against him and that's all i thought it meant but this outdoor thing- where people can see- i don't know that that works for me. and the other writes me things i wish i could say aloud, and the other son't even recognize me and yet the other asks to come in when i want to go to sleep and i don't know where loyalties are and who i'm hurting and whether or not i exist in any of it- just a robotic piece of flesh making my way from bed to bed throwing my head back here, escaping orgasms there, thinking of women when men are deep inside of me, thinking of men when i'm deep inside of me thinking of nowhere when they want to look in my eyes and find something that they recognize as themselves. this is the energy that burns me now- swirling around in thompsonian wind gusts except they don't lift me up to her lips or wrap me around his jawline- no they raise me high up and then let me drop down hard hardhardhardhard when they disappear. so fuck

"he not busy being born is busy dying"

today the world is hiding in its own socks- trying to pull something together out of the deranged molecules scuttling about. and you wonder why this is this and that sometimes is that and is at other times completely at odds with itself. like a hippie wearing brand new shoes, a girl with a shaved head who can't figure out why all of these other girls keep trying to kiss her. and i look for something to consummate me- utterly consume and twist into odd figurines- a flick of the tongue here, a sad lopsided grin there and in between- just someone who can put their arm around me and tell me they'll weather the storm. the uglier we are- the more we try to prove that we aren't, and the more beautiful, the harder it is to be anything but. i wish that i could tie up your eyelashes and guard myself against that fateful stare that totally and completely exterminates what i was going to say in terms of resistance. but your eyes are so blue and those hands feel so much like familiar to me so i can't remember how to shape the word "no". it's time to learn about old men long dead and words that get us confused with people that think and feel and cry when in reality we are the same beings that scrape along the floor of some poison ocean-excreting our old romances in those black bile fumes that we all have to now live in. speed along old man- there's no body to buy here.

number 50

this is my 50th post but I feel like it's all been pretty much the same. I'd just like to say, for the record: "LAND DOG" because that is what life's all about. I left my portfolio at cafe ambrosia today and I fely stupid calling them to ask for them to put it aside for me...I'm sleepy from wading through the dust bunnies in my house- trying to get everything clean so that when we come back from thanksgiving break it will be to a sparkling new house.

fever post

I really miss those mountains- the sky that great expanse swallowing the all of you making all things absurdly small- the mate stuck in your teeth, the garlic in your potatoes, the hickie on your thigh. it is so much less gray than these ice days. bla

the new man

we met a man from nigeria last night at the bar and he seemed pretty cool- he was different anyway from the people we normally meet at bars so we figured- why not. then the time came to go home and we expressed as much with him offering to walk us home. thinking he was being polite we told him that wasn't necessary but he insisted and the three of us left for our house. we walked up to the door and he told me that i could go ahead and go inside but that he wanted to talk to jen a little longer. he told her that he was "going to be upfront" and that he hadn't had sex "in a long time" to which she responded, awkwardly, "oh". he let her off the hook with an e-mail address and we giggled collectively about how creepy he had become.

i really want to take an english course about graphic novels and this morning, as i'm getting ready to go to work, i decided to write the teacher of the course to try to get myself in the class. just as i was finishing the e-mail, getting it ready to send, i see the nigerian man walking up our front step. he hands me a bag of pink gooey pastries and tells me "they're fresh" then proceeds to ask what we're up to tonight, what my e-mail address is, etc.

i think that's creepy

just before class

for real- I'm wet- because it's disgusting outside and i think that i need a real crush who might possibly return the favor and not try to rape me. that'd be great. i think that was insensitive. i love emily canosa!

tooth

kiss my kneecaps twist my hair up into your divine. there is consumption here- cannibalism gnawing away our fantasy. Milla walks home along the winding wharfs overflowing with crying teen babies crack sophisticates holding out their bone stubbles craving her brain waves. And do you wait around the corner- creeping in away up front without your pocket change. swirl me twirl me twist this stubble into something beautiful- make the music nerds spit their rhetoric at their own reflections- i think it would be more profitable for us all.
snaggle

nutritional yeast

i am recovering all of the time and brushing the dirt from my knees everytime i fall down. most of the time people don't believe me when they see the stitches across my side and down my ribcage- they assume too pure thoughts for that much surgery. but just wait, wait and see time reveals things that not even tabloids could hope to unvcover

sometimes this piece of masking tape is all that holds me together and when i expand like yeast continents in a pool of flour and water, i threaten to escape all bounds and that's when they come for me- frightened of what kind of power i could have over you all. the initial shock is in the secrets we keep. because everyone already knows them and when the phone calls keep coming in and none of them are from who you want them to be from and they hold stupid words for you to sift through and you can't quite remember the last time you had sex because it was just that long ago (and of course because you remember almost the exact day sometime before easter it haunts you even more especially because you remember particulars like how you were face down and almost came too fast). but these things are all for a yesterday outside of time. now i will eat my mango chutney and drink my french press coffee and pretend that i am a real human being for a little while until i dive into that chaos once more.

hanging like a curtain

my eyes don't work and the drugs are injected in the hole in my head. direct effect- go straight to the source and all that. there are swirls around the way you talk to me, they spit fire across the table, across the continents and i will never find the time to call you back. i was reminded last night of how hands go places you don't want them to and sometimes people let you know how strong they are when you would've preferred not to know. and i don't know how to slap hard or struggle out and i hate the way i smile when i'm uncomfortable and all i want is to be comfortable all i want is to be comfortable. but you wouldn't really know much about that, right? remember when skin was new and you wanted to do everything you could to polish it right- get to know it in this way and in that way, learn which it liked more; peanutbutter or chocolate, lick at wounds when they smarted and apply the coldpress hard. those days are gone, my dapple-eyed daughter, those days have flown by arrowshaped to canada. now is the time for pushing in and touch my cock- here i'll do it for you. now is the time for sleep. now is the time to keep your eyes closed so you don't have to watch what's happened.

daddy and k

can you believe how this time has gone on. and i am stuck here alone. there has always been an opposite, always been an other, but now there is just me just me and myclean smells and hairy legs. and this is the way it was always meant to be- I think. i have twisted myself up enough to know that i don't resemble myself much at all and yet i keep referring to mysef as if it were something extant. but it is not- with you credit card in the air- it is a lolligagging sinew of neck brace that is all i have left of this false corporeal. and you smile at me like that- like you know what it is- like you know what i am, like you know that i know that i know what i am. but it is just snow in july- just my reason forging itself a new form. i will let you go. i will let you go. i don't want to hold on anymore because you are heavy and my arms are out of their sockets- have been for ages now. and you never wanted me to catch you anyway. so now it is- i will finally let you fall and we can both be all the more comfortable. you know, there was a time when i was all floral patterned icing cakes. and i had feather eyelashes and glittering somethings and i had immortal thoughts on't, my gossamer veins shone like ravers at a gang-bang and my teeth were sharp enough to cut through the metal piercing my neck. you've never felt that kind of cold, have you...it bites, i can tell you that. it bites through and through. i don't know where that small one has gotten to- she's gone by now- lost somewhere and i miss her- except in my nightmares when she comes back, cutting through my brainwaves, and I wake up bleeding out excuses. bleeding out something true.

non-entry

today i felt sorry for myself and out of it. i don't know what went wrong. i guess we all just have "off" days but i can't imagine having to pick up another book. doing anything seems like something unattainable. i feel like a leper. i feel like i'm never going to have sex again. i feel annoying. i think i should go to bed.

mention

i don't know if i've told you this before but sometimes you look like lucifer. maybe it's just the way those horns look growing out of your head and how red that blood is dripping down from the side of your mouth. i'm sure that if you didn't hold your trident in that way- if you didn't use it to stab down the empty skeleton souls that crowd in your living room, you wouldn't give off that impression.

for now,
i think that we've come to an understanding
i go this way and you go that way and when we happen to cross each other's pass
we won't freak out or be those insecure little monsters we are on the inside
o no
we'll just get out our hand grenades and sawed-off shot guns. we'll uncork our barrels of napalm, bare machetes and go after each other like civilized human beings.

that bad?

winter days were warmer when i was walking towards someone who looked like you used to. things were warm even when the sun was so cold and the snow spiraled down around my icicle breath and even when i slipped and fell into some winter pond and the water threatened my blood- things were warmer then. because we had blankets made out of fairy tales and socks that we improvised out of our cupped hands and your skin always felt hot against mine and there was so much fire when we came that i never noticed the cold.

not like now- when the wind bites through everything i'm wearing and my bed is so emptyemptyempty. the temperature hasn't even dropped as low as last time- but i already have hypothermia

scandal

ok- not really- just life and all of it's corners and twists and frustrating things that happen when you don't ask them too. I am the lead in a show and I think that I have yet to understand it. I must leave- this is not the time for me to be dawdling online- it is the time for paul and I to wander through time and spaces dimensions and worldsrunningawayfasttogetherfallinginlovewithpeoplewholoveusaskingforgiftsthatwillneverbeourslearninglanguagesthathaveneverexisteditisthattimenowandnothingelsewillmatterexceptwhetherornotican get away