|
Haru2288
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: fred
Country: United States
State: Michigan
Birthday: 10/22/1988
Gender: Male
Interests: stuff
Expertise: -none-
Occupation: Student
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message me
AIM:  Haru2288
Member Since:
7/20/2003
|
|
| i can feel the autumn invading.
the sunlight bent around the branches
tracing deeper eyebrows on my face.
our sun grows less and less warm,
but you say there's global warming
while you dance in aerosols
like beginning rituals in rainfall.
i'll show you:
we'll also breathe water,
and we'll swim like otters.
i'll guide your hair back and around your neck.
i'll find you in a blanket of sand.
through the waves, the night sky was grand.
every star a shooting star, my
mermaid will make her wish:
vision blurring, my insides melted and rose.
we sleep on clouds, no longer coves,
but every time we look down to smile
all below will cry awhile.
we carry sorrow on our sleeves;
i rid the mermaid of her seas.
i rid the seas of their mermaid.
| | |
| [xxv]
we choke on the flames lining the necks
from chins to chests, backs to breasts.
we'll swallow saliva to quell the burning.
we'll shut our eyes pushing tears down our throats.
we'll hold our pride deeply in never showing hurt...
like we slid a sword of ash handle-first.
[xvi]
"pick up the telephone,"
i always say for the next day.
there was never really a need though,
because you'd always get to me first.
i considered calling and not the next day,
so i did, but there wasn't anyone there...
nor the next day... nor the next...
i've never been able to cut the threads,
no matter how frayed they became.
but i'm not everyone,
and my gold is not everyone's gold,
which is probably how it was cut.
| | |
| what traced your lips was not lipstick.
my finger orthogonally pressed upon
your parallel pink lips firm and telling
beckon momentary silence; no,
we're not allowed to do this.
my thoughts-
we can not!
we will not.
will we?
will you?
won't you?
won't you let me in?
no.
you're holding my breath.
i'm suffocating; i'm drowning;
i'm smothered singing smiles.
we said we wouldn't,
but our fingers were crossed-
all ten of yours against
all ten of mine.
| | |
| [1]
he had a fascination with the weather.
he wrote about it all the time.
he had told me once:
"i watched the feathery clouds
glide over me and the rain clouds
roll in. I watched the umbrellas
open and the people rush indoors.
i watched the rain pour and cleanse
the earth. it was cold. it was wet.
it was miserable. it was life"
and when he wrote that
not a drop of rain had fallen,
but later that night, the sky cried for him.
he gripped his hoodie and bag in one hand
and he held his longboard and plastic bag
in the other hand.
he took strides on the slippery
double yellow paint down the middle of the road.
he closed his eyes; he was a tight-rope dreamer.
[2]
oh, you were down.
you said you were So down.
you told me you were tragic.
you spread yourself on the museum steps
and you remained erratically unmoved
by the oscillating sky.
you might have been burned
by the occasional sun,
but you had such an uncanny skill
of being the epitome of all things stoic.
you were hopeless.
the notes and words spilled into your ears
but it felt so good. you're an addict,
and you'll never do a thing about it.
but when you got a call, and it became your
cue to let your own words out, you choked.
i saw you.
oh, you were down.
you were So close to breaking down,
but you didn't.
[2.5]
and i shut doors on everyone.
no one could come in.
"yeah. i'm fine.
... or...
... i will be..."
and i worked that night:
there's nothing worse than
having the deepest of sorrows
and concealing them behind a smile.
"no matter how bad your day is,
i don't care if... or if...,
leave it at home. we're in the
service industry, so smile."
a heart will rip into pieces,
and those pieces will rip to shreds
from playing pretend.
i used to love to play pretend.
[3.0]
okay, so you said
sometimes, you'll sit on the bus,
and you'll hope? for a car
to just plow into the side of the bus,
did i hear you correctly?
you're empty inside.
then,
one day, there was a horrific collision,
and you felt alive again...
... you could have died again...
| | |
| heavy paper encrypted bound
by a flimsy paperclip.
swallow hard, the rain clouds are coming,
and the wind blew your papers away...
| | |
|
|
pulse
|
|
|
