with or without

fire

i tried to recall all of you that night
the moon turned red
the world stopped
then sped and sped

a hollow face
with pink undertones
i was so warm
you always said
and
i was turning red
because your touch was like kerosene
and my blood was lit up
with your very presence

standing in the driveway
father to daughter
the showdown of all showdowns

and i fear
the very thought of
the line in the sand
but that night the line was all that I had

it has taken me almost 2 months
to remember everything
i thought i knew that night

the last time i saw you
i barley smiled i just stared at you blankly
told you "i'll see you in awhile.'

next time I see you i'll be older than i am tonight
colder

don't wait
i kept saying
go away
and i wish i could
i wish it was me
on the plane
holding the passport
being pushed away
i wish it was me
on the other end of the line
hearing those words
i spoke that cut me
more than they cut you
still i wish it was me
holding a passport
leaving this country
instead

i cried so much to think someone could love me

after you left
i didn't speak
i wouldn't eat and I couldn't breathe-
i just felt dead
i cried even more that night in my bed
days go by and i stay cold
and i stay dead.

leo tolstoy: war and peace

"She could not follow the opera, could not even listen to the music: she saw only painted cardboard and oddly dressed men and women who moved, spoke and sang strangely in a patch of blazing light. She knew what it was all meant to represent, but it was so grotesquely artificial and unnatural that she felt alternately ashamed and amused at the actors."

LOUD

"SHE SEEMED TO BE INSIDE SOMETHING, INSIDE HERSELF, AS IF ALL THAT BEAUTY HAD BEEN MADE IN HER AS THIS BIG HALL FULL OF CHANDELIERS AND MARBLE FIREPLACES - BEAUTIFUL BUT EMPTY. AND SHE’D BEEN DROPPED DOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF IT AND HAD SPENT TOO MANY YEARS WANDERING AROUND IN IT, HER FOOTSTEPS JUST ECHOING INSIDE HERSELF, WONDERING HOW SHE’D GOT THERE, TELLING HERSELF THAT IF SHE HAD TO BE ALONE IN THERE, AT LEAST SHE HAD INTERESTING THINGS TO LOOK AT. ONLY SHE DIDN’T WANT TO BE ALONE IN THERE, AND SINCE SHE WAS NEVER GOING TO FIND HER WAY OUT, SOMEONE WOULD HAVE TO FIND HIS WAY IN. AND IT TOOK ME ABOUT TEN SECONDS TO FIGURE IT OUT. AND IT TOOK ANOTHER TEN SECONDS TO FIGURE OUT THAT I WANTED TO BE THE ONE TO PUSH OPEN THOSE HEAVY DOORS AND WANDER THOSE EMPTY HALLS CALLING HER NAME UNTIL I FOUND HER."

king of the ocean

"The simple lack of him is more to me than others' presence."

- Edward Thomas 

Epidermal Macabre

Indelicate is he who loathes

The aspect of his fleshy clothes, --

The flying fabric stitched on bone,

The vesture of the skeleton,

The garment neither fur nor hair,

The cloak of evil and despair,

The veil long violated by

Caresses of the hand and eye.

Yet such is my unseemliness:

I hate my epidermal dress,

The savage blood's obscenity,

The rags of my anatomy,

And willingly would I dispense

With false accouterments of sense,

To sleep immodestly, a most

Incarnadine and carnal ghost.

t.roethke

NEARNESS

I stepped into a compartment of the morning
I've never felt: the heart of dawn so heavy
with such a muted color palette!
colliding with the sadness of the days first inhibitors
the drunks are almost asleep and sadness is laying low
waiting for the afternoon to bring up the mistakes they made
in the shadows. the mistakes only true light can expose.
as a heavy fog comes so suprinsgly
i glance in the mirror to rescue my face

I take a pile of this,I collect a pile of that

and im wearing 12 different sweaters

just as the woman who wears all those unusual hats

I just cant stop pacing as I do these routines

thinking: Usually I sleep through his sadness.

And the operator is breaking all the rules..asking: what do you need this number for exactly?

I am sad and there are too many clouds...who who who are you?

I put my piles in a basket and light them on fire

like a match with a jumpy foot

waiting for his destiny.

As I brush my hair for the first time in weeks. I drift.

I remember the dream:

I walk in the front door

to set my own house on fire.

however the snow prevents it

and all we can think about is nearness

the addiction of laying side by side

the obsession of a kiss.

a body filling with feathers or with snow

asking: and who are you to strike this match

inside my heart inside my soul

like this like that

you are plotting out our double death

my face is turning hot

because your touches are deliberate

He was burning me down now;his weapon being nearness.

you are killing this house

like this like that

the obsession of a kiss

the concept of-skin.

DRIVE

sometimes i wonder if I'm cursed
i can feel all the energies and see all these entities,existing on earth
my mind breaks them down
and stores them in a place that is dark and cold and hushed up
this place is located in the back of my mind,the very very back
i go to this place only in moments of complete silence and stillness
it cannot be reached with even the slightest bit of noise or the smallest bit of movement. 
everything will be thrown off otherwise, trust me
not even brown noise should be present.
pupils dilate,blood rushes,hair falls,skin turns rosebud magic and you are just a glimpse
of the ghost i visioned in my dream,oh come back falcon,please!!
muster up the energy


without these two chemicals (you and i) the power weakens and the seasons become
endless.


on still days i eat up silences
and i ask myself 10 questions
then 12
then 10345 
then 3.
and then it goes back to only even numbers.then sleep.


harvesting my spiritual gardens


sowing and reaping weeping and weeding
they are growing and shrinking then blooming and blossoming 
all the branches are pale and their roots are food coloring blueish green


i can't bear to hear certain sounds because they remind me of you
it seems quite manic and strange and everything always does


maybe your forest fire nature is too hot
for my cold hands and my winter feet


those webs of lashes spun over my reclusive nature 
this is: far too ironic for you to swallow or even eat
and eating is not always the best option when it comes to nourishment:
"NOURISH THIS YOU BUNDLE!!!"


coming back to earth you ask me for a portion and i hear you say potion
now you are crying because you no longer feel the same
you are anointing your forehead with magic oil and crushing up all the purple berries you see in the forest and i am sitting inside an empty swimming pool 
drowning
were you trying to heal yourself? 


you see my fake dead body


"invent a plan of romance or something"


so you rent us a car and we drive to a place with no trees
and maybe we don't ever speak of the things we were ashamed of
we just keep looking at each other.................


(THE WIND IS BLOWING REALLY HARD)


(THERE IS A HUMMING SOUND AND TOM PETTY IS PLAYING BECAUSE I LIKE TOM PETTY AND YOU DO TOO)


(THIS IS THE PERFECT MOMENT,IMAGINE-FEELING LIKE EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE AND PERFECT-WE ARE JUST LIKE GHOST AIR FLOATING)


(I AM THINKING " GRAB MY HAND, FOREVER.")


the new car smell didn't come with this car at all
we escape and not one person can reach  us
the sun sets and we don't have much in our pockets
but i have your hand and you have mine
(reader: this moment WILL last,ok? this is not a total fantasy based rant. This is not a happy ending this is a happy everything)
and i kiss your ring and tell you my biggest secret...............................