Thursday 4/17/2014 12:10:00 AM

a cold end. a yellow defeat. soft stones strike the glass, but rarely break it. the long math of faces betray the simplicity of skin.  tease the frigid. in quiet chokes of wind. and the loud epiphanies  proximity tends to overlook.

stones crumble. the dust confesses. the jaws of the moment bite down. chew.  and we are consumed. quietly digested. like everything else that is dead.

the pace is irrelevant. no destination. just going. always searching. for corners that tend to meet. the curious angles that lead us to connections. fluctuating degrees. and tardy rabbits. overwhelmed by Alice's copious dream.

Small. large. then back again. the winter is stubborn. the scale is passive. we measure by other means.

the shadow across her thoughts. the hesitation in her pills. the humor in her grief.

chaos pretending progress. life like shoelaces coming undone.

Monday 4/14/2014 12:15:00 AM

soft stalks in the thick grass. tease the sun. assuming life is residual. or some form thereof. her bricks carry her. in stiff tongues and absent martyrs. life is small. smaller than we ever imagined.

shattered tiles  on the stairs. the impossible logic of trust. simmers and burns in its empty pot. the gentle paradox of deception. boasts its graves in fractions of the original math. there is no such thing as addiction of subtraction. only corners where the shadows relent.

this long walk forgets the obvious parables. the distance concerns itself only with the echo. the mind's beating drum. the simple rhythm of pulsating skin. stubborn electrons racing against entropy.

Wooden steps wear their beginnings in broad clouds and questionable loyalties. We continue our climb. Confident that the altitude is sufficient to offset foul weight of gravity.

life arrives in hammers. Exits in nails. an innocent tangle of freedom. an immense wall of choices. a tricky prison not without its weaknesses.

Tuesday 4/08/2014 12:23:00 AM

her skewed geometry of touch. arrives in heavy downpours. yet manifests in delicate floods.

collisions and droughts pierce the sober wind. life is a series of butterflies chewing off their own wings.

no sneeze. no chain of events. the empty abyss that surrounds us our only connection.

the rain breathes. in slender angles that give us strength to dare. the water sings its path. a graceful cascade of ghosts in a last surrender to gravity.

her eyes like broken math. a frenzy of calculations desperate for an answer.

her lips are sour candy. but sugar is all i taste.

change is always ready. but sometimes the caterpillar delays.

Sunday 4/06/2014 12:44:00 AM

hard measures. angles and what not. such as the body is. divided. slivers and threads boast their independence. the larger mass mostly gravity and the subtle science of apathy.

sex's crass magicians pull rabbits from our heads. time's adamant priests locate paradise in the most unlikely places.

there is a momentum to the grey. a tide beneath the sober. and all of us are devoured in its hunger. we can never be. nor ever have been. that time was long spent before we noticed it. we flail in our emotional bankruptcy while the taste of wealth stubbornly lingers on our lips.

the pauses have their secrets. a mania of escapes in a quiet house of cards. like the ocean. trapped in its cycle of touch and go. like the edge of the world. A much sharper angle than it would seem.

the color of flesh. always changing. dark to light. and back again. a kaleidoscope of pleasure colliding with the life's tedious conflicts.

the pretentious wars of women and their affections.

a trodden path. a footprint too far. the juncture. like a soft poison. the moment a brilliant suicide.

black ties and empty tuxedos. weigh the skeletons. the questionable accuracy of choice. a flurry of pennies and wishing wells. quieter than i remember.

flesh betrays. hope is a treason. the war comes and goes. the struggle is constant.

Tuesday 4/01/2014 01:27:00 AM

solvent syllables in the theater of the choke. deaf as the wolf. Blind as the Earth. She carries her pennies in fistfuls. Arriving at the fountain without the luxury of a wish.

the yellow. the simple bridges. manifest their sober. in eloquent ghosts. and the patterns. all too similar to losing hope.

isoleses triangles. the weak geometry of skin. jagged puzzle pieces. in a pciture yet to be determined. she scribbles the world. in dull pencils and fading ink. imagining time in crusts of bread. and doses of medicine.

softening the affliction with repetition and indifference.

the madness. the sweet apple skins of insanity. like paper fingers. trying to grab hold of  a deepening  abyss.

burnt soldiers and faded wars.  purchase their edges in bent ladders and soft scabs.

the wound has its grin. the infection yawns. as the sharper angles reach their equilibrium.

Friday 3/28/2014 12:07:00 AM

soft scabs listen for the u-turn.

the journey happens. in used matchsticks and dirty bedsheets. smoke and cum. the perfume of love and crisis. stubborn ghosts wasting their pastels drawing flowers and flames.

it's cold. it has to be. the arrogant cancer of touch sweeps us up in its disease. the cure comes in colors. no words. just sweating angles. swallowed up in the inertia of the people we've become.

shedding the numbers. the vague math of broken needles and open windows. petitioning the darkness. in simple equations. ambivalent strokes of submission. quietly poison each moment.

until the sickness becomes a blessing.

the ballad of time. slow and soft. as it stabs. a gentle murder.

not falling.

just letting the gravity win.

the distance. here and there like separate worlds. the apogee. the blink of the sober. as it draws us into itself.

the falling leaves. the roiling seasons. of skin and choice. a withering exchange of flesh. and the outlines it imposes. these unfamiliar skeletons sneak inside us. changing the shape of everything.

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