Saturday 9/30/2006 11:18:00 PM

He grew old overnight. I guess everyone does. Time puts us to bed with a thumb. Wakes us up with a fist.

Oddly, we build the walls first. Then the floor. Needing some place to hide more than somewhere to stand.

I could wear yellow if I wanted. Slip inside that sun like I was never a cloud at all. No rain. Just windows drowning in who we've been. The defiant click of as I push the hands on the clock forward to begin another winter. The overflow of darkness that accompanies anything we presumed was ours.

Little swings on big playgrounds chirping out an envious song. As the grass is slowly dislodged from beneath them.

In careful prose with all verbs counted. I explained the trauma. It really didn't sound so bad as I heard myself speaking. Of changes that surely would've come anyway. Walls that never blinked. Though their eyes would tire.

No paint. Colors lying to desperate eyes. No curtains. Clouds pretending to listen. No sex. Covered in our frailties. Cutting hearts out of rumpled pages. With scissors made of stone. And every outline trying to draw a picture we never can.

He grew old overnight. We did.

And I realized it wasn't enough.

Put to sleep by fingers. Woken up with fists. We're never old. We're never young. We're always falling asleep making love to strangers. Waking up to friends.

He grew old overnight. So did I.

Trying to explain to myself what had happened. Trying to understand why I'd rather sleep alone.

9/30/2006 10:43:00 PM

Just shy of a year ago I started this blog as something different for me. A venue for truth rather than fiction. Prose rather than poetics. A blank map upon which I had hoped to plot the course of my changes.

It started out fine. I wrote in complete sentences that strangely did not rhyme. I swapped fiction for non. Writing as though I was having a discussion with the therapist I need, but still don't have. Popping paragraphs like Prozac. Until it began to make sense. Or maybe it just didn't matter anymore that it never had.

But after a few months of that I gradually began losing my grip on the mission. Myself was overtaking me again. Heavy on the metaphor and the license to tinker with what actually is. The prose becomes poetic without my intervention. My fingers. My mind work freely of my own agenda. I seek the perfect words. The gasped expression of untold emotions. Truth is an afterthought. A series of unrelated threads which are woven together. To make the pattern which quenches my desire to create something that is entirely my own in a world full of only strangers.

And that's where I get lost. Or they do. Trying to rescue the person strangled in the words. As if she were real. Thinking what I write is derivative of what I feel. To a point yes. But no. It's a creation. A hunk of marble chiseled down until I find an image worth telling.

I am not waiting to be found inside this labyrinth of pasted together pauses. Life. When it's important always moves so slow. Cures flirting with addictions. Especially as time wears on. And the spaces between strangers expand. People and places scratched together into this awkward mosaic. I am behind it. Not inside. It's never been my truth. It's always been just wishful thinking.

Staging the grout between the tiles as ceramic hands wait for their adhesive to dry. So that they might hold for the first time what's always been in their grasp.

9/30/2006 01:10:00 AM

I had the doorway between my fingers. All ready to crush. Smaller than I ever thought it could be. Even from such a distance. Moments squeaking back and forth like children on their playground swings. Kicking the air to trot for them. The triangle of his touch marking its degrees. The rocking chair in his chest lulling me to sleep.

Hoepless carnivores. Deriving life from death. In every way. Tenative lovers with their paint by numbers friends. Telling only the lies we are sure to believe.

Should the question ever arise. What we tried to be. What lions we almost tamed with our frayed whips and broken chair.

It's inside the cage where their roar is quieted. Dancing on the point of their fangs. Scratching against the bristle of their tongue. Nothing is as loud as I thought it was.

Before the first bite. And after the last.

Where all our prisons have names. And all our cages have faces.

Lovers we tried to keep and the friends we ended up with.

9/30/2006 12:06:00 AM

He was just a stranger who quickly took me someplace I'd not been. The hairs on his arms hummed against their contrast to his skin. In his big boots that made the stairs moan and the floor strut. Bent over the further of the shadows from where I laid on the bed scratching my loneliness into the paper. Pretending I was closer.

To where he sat flirting with someone else.

In the attic. Corners wearing their capes. Darkness whispering in stalled thuds. All the fabric became coarse. As I tried not to want. Looking up from beneath him. For the moon to outrun the clouds that chase it. Hanging foot searching for its ladder. Words I wanted to hear, but couldn't say.

I didn't even know his name. Nothing. No one to cry for. As the stairs effortlessly pushed him away.

This empty pen still scars page with my thoughts. The burden is on the reader to find what I've said.

I don't mind being invisible. I kinda like it. Until I fall into someone I wish had seen.

Friday 9/29/2006 12:42:00 AM

It was the wolf in his voice that I noticed first. As I chased the blood coming from my words. Carefully following my scabs like a trail of breadcrumbs. To the spot where he'd left.

With a neon voice that spelled out every thought. Made it glow. The hum of the metal massaging people into lovers. Taken i doses. He almost was the remedy.

It was early. The rust leaves still had their grip intact. When I was told. The nails I'd bitten would not be growing back. There were yellow fists in every corner. Stabbing bluntly at eyes that couldn't open anymore.

There was snow on the ground by the time I knew how much I'd lost.

All the things i thought I never had. There. But I didn't know how to to keep them. Or if I had the right.

He wanted to be the cure. My red-headed Jesus.

He did.

Save me.

From everyone but him.

Plastic roses bloom in cardboard gardens. While the paper rain pretends to take away our thirst.Plastic roses keep every petal until that cardboard soil falls apart.

Trying to catch those careless raindrops.

Thursday 9/28/2006 11:22:00 PM

Wednesday 9/27/2006 11:28:00 PM

There's a storm I know by name. Its rich cacophony is my lullaby. As night after night it stomps its way through the darkness. Trudging in the same way that I write. Backwards across empty bottles. Whose labels by morning are lost. In the verdant strangle of hope's callous grip. As it seizes upon the most frail of saplings in this bloated forest life expounds.

There is a storm. That I know. Its name is there in every eye that's looked upon. And each finger that has touched. Frozen in the moment between desire and experience. Life. That cruel time machine that turns children into adults.

The last apple dangling from a dying tree. Grins broken teeth. A smile just outside the caress of fallen friends. Tombs below. And above. Sacred meat trembling below the skin.

But they world only sees red. Only sees it trying to hold onto what has already let it go.

I can smell the ground. The strangely pleasant odor of the fall. As it taps at my nostrils like hammers on a piano. The click. Click. Click. Of a rapid fire shutter going off. Vision. Scent. Sound. It's all there.

But I still can't see how far I've gone.

Monday 9/25/2006 11:55:00 PM

I had gathered all the letters, but not found words to suit them yet. Orphaned pieces of the parquet waiting for me to find the pattern.

Don't you think sometimes it's not necessarily easier, but better to just give up. Know when failure is your only chance at success. Instead of always being that caged bird that sings to cover it up.

Two days too early as usual I got the greeting. Same eclipse. Different sun. I wasn't tempted by those rumpled skins. But I felt bad leaving them there. As empty as they'd come to us.

I'd imagined the conversation like bright polish on my bitten nails. Sharp and abrupt as it tried negotiate the schizophrenia of my manicure.

Hello.

Goodbye.

And something inbetween that resembles life.

But only in the way that we keep waiting for what isn't coming. Or listening to what isn't there.

The absent satisfaction in owning the loss of what I've never had.

Towing the ladder from behind as as I look up and see all the places I'll never go.

9/25/2006 12:05:00 AM

The phone rang and he wasn't there. Wrinkled trench coat left in the closet too long. Raindrops staining the length of both sleeves. In some crazy pattern that seemed to say the maps we were using were wrong.

I was never trying to get there. Just wanted to see what it looked like.

I put the receiver back and counted the seconds. As silence compounded into separation. It wouldn't ring again. Wouldn't do anything other than stare at my decision. As it pooled like pudding under the thin crust of my resolve.

It was never wrong enough to be worth saving. But there was some small comfort in how well the grief fit the contours of my moods.

The phone would ring and I'd listen to him talk about football and brothers and women. Like I wasn't there. Until every word seemed a parody of the person I had thought I wanted.

He never changed himself. But he made me so different. I don't know how to to tell him it doesn't hurt anymore.

Frantic grains of sand clinging to my fingers as I break open the waist on that thoughtless hourglass.

All that time spilling through our thighs as we try to decide which ones to save.

Sunday 9/24/2006 11:50:00 PM

It's not like that he shrugged. You don't just wake up one morning and know the volume of water in each snowflake. It takes more winters than you've lived to see to even find all the places they might land. Let alone, ask each one its name.

So... you're likening me to a snowflake? Is that it? Or am I more of a blizzard? I mean I already have a name. And you know it. And a capacity. You've reached it. So...

I like your metaphor, but not your meaning. Same as always.

We're not that close he sighed. I still need to sleep alone. You can be the sun that breaks on the glass. But the windows won't open. They can't. We just drink together because we're lonely. I'm not telling you anything you don't know. You're not naive. You just like to play that part. You know more than I care to think about sometimes.

Maybe I do, but I don't really know it. Not where it matters. Until you tell me it's hopeless.

Blizzard or snowflake. I don't care.

I just wnat to land.

Because all this falling is getting old.

9/24/2006 12:25:00 AM

There's no color now. You're all as dark as you began. Fractured photographs clinging to the lines.

I know I'm wrong.

But right is debatable.

Leave those explanations on the playground. For the wheeze of empty swings to decide. We collaborate when it suits us. As though there is a timeline to our change.

Peeling the apples eden has tempted us with. Removing the skins from unnameable truths. Because the gods we worshipped weren't listening. And the ones that heard us had their own plans.

I don't have somewhere to go. Only where I've been. Strong as the ashes that try to know.

Why it's over.

Saturday 9/23/2006 12:57:00 AM

The glass accordion swells as I walk down the stairs. Fracturing as it wheezes out the sound of my descent.

And it contracts in the same way. Prismic shards of skin heave to the boast of tired organs. As they gracelessly combust from inside the cage of my skeleton. Imagining there is. Or could be. Something other than disease in this biopsy we call living.

Pretending the glass can breathe. As it cracks out its only song.

I go down. With the light in my hand. And I don't go up again until I've put it out.

The glass accordion has a beautiful song. But it can play it only once.

Perfect as a puzzle I can't solve.

Friday 9/22/2006 12:00:00 AM

May he was right all along. And I was never where I thought I was. Counting apples on the ground as the tree looks up. Thoughtless clouds unflinching as they shit out their storms.

I suppose he was right when he accused me of being too sure. Gauche puppy with a hotel tail. This is where we will sleep tonight. No longer.

Poker left in the fireplace. Hugging the logs being devoured. Pudding fingers seeping through he flame. Like I still believe the pictures I've taken are real.

Crippled yeti's as barren as the landscape that's keeps them prisoner.

There I was in the moment's jaws. Anticipating the swallow.

Not realizing digestion had already been and gone.

I was waiting on the vomit.

To prove.

Things I couldn't believe until.

Thursday 9/21/2006 12:07:00 AM

I tried to sew the bear. From the fabric leftoever. All that stuffing. I gave it a name. So I could relate to the task. It's first name was gone. It's middle name was ours.

And while that birdcage still promises to spare me from my flight. I am free to look through the bars. Tabulate the difference between then and now.

There's only a change of color to mark the tiem I spent trying. There's only the burp of the tide as it approaches. ALways rearranging those mounds of sand.

The world that surrounds us as volatile as we are.

Trying to tell me I've changed, when it's everything else that has.

It's so easy to be wrong. And just let that be the answer to everything I've asked.

Wednesday 9/20/2006 11:47:00 PM

I was looking at the floor. Searching for an indication someone had been there. An evelope in the dust that might contain. It's not like we ever slept. Together or with anyone else. There were just beds that yawned as we clung to the keyboard.

Every touch a compromise. Every words a judgement. There in your last suicide I found you. Too willing to live. It was every one's fault but your own. That the world didn't know why you were there.

Looking for words that couldn't see us. The soiled lingerie of love sneaks off to the laundromat. While we lose ourselves in calculating the volume of our experience.

Forging the perimeter with empty hands. Measuring the circumference by what I care to remember.

It's not accurate at all.

But it's close enough.

You're below the equator now. Best get used to the temperatures.

Tuesday 9/19/2006 12:44:00 AM

Maybe I'd just been waiting too long for a reasonable situation. There were sails in every direction, but the wind didn't care. Where we were going.

The feeble way we walk into each other's lives is no match for how hard we make those exits. Pulling soft on the stem of the cigarette. Gentle lips sucking the last threads of disease from that torn gingham dress. So many dorothy's looking for their the red sequin shoes. The ones we were promised would undo everything that had been done to us.

Am I wrong? In this empty purchase. Swaying with the grace of the bottles as they shuffled to the thump of my footsteps. Down the aisle. To register to loss.

Under the sheets. Where we could never go. The friction too much. Every pillow weighted. All heels clicking. As the witches laughed.

At the yellow in the bricks. The wizard whose curtain couldn't hide.

How wrong he was. About where we wanted to go.

Over the rainbow. After the storm. Deafened by he colors. It's not like I haven't been here before. I click my heels and recited the chant.

But it doesn't know. It doesn't know any better than I do where it should take me.

Monday 9/18/2006 11:46:00 PM

Some songs are candy right away. From that first lick through the radio's hiss. I'm already biting down hard. Tonguing the fructose shards deftly over my palette. Some people are like that too. From the second I find myself breathing the same air as them I'm ready to swallow. Put those broken pieces in my mouth and extract every hint of sugar from edges too sharp.

But every once in a while I'll crawl back inside the bin. Rummaging through the discs I've played once. Maybe less. The songs that didn't strike me at first listen. Put away. Forgotten.

Maybe it wasn't the right time for me to hear. Or perhaps they were not ready for me yet. Always searching for an urgency that isn't necessarily the key to what I want. In the first few seconds of contact I assume I know enough. And I do. Know them.

But we can't have known each other.

So sometimes I go back. Plundering through the rejects I've amassed. Little plastic squares waiting patiently to forge our bond.

And every time I do, I'm surprised by how well they know who I am. How long I've wasted not listening to their song.

Some people are like that. If you wait long enough.

9/18/2006 01:03:00 AM

Seeing the red light. Paused at the entrance. The tumble of the cylinders as that key fondles the lock. I got myself back one night at a time. I didn't want her, but there was no one else.

Contemplating the temazapam. Yellow fingers drawing their knots. Until there in the middle of my sinus medicine it became clear. How very different I was not.

Once all those floorboards had been ripped up. Only the particle board under our feet. The furniture teasing at the tack strips. As they carelessly gauge the air.

Leaving the drawers open. So you might see what I've yet to wear.

The mosquito bites they left on my heart still make me itch sometimes. I scratch. Keep scratching at.

It only makes another scar.

Go ahead and cash me in. Before I'm worhtless.

Sunday 9/17/2006 10:32:00 PM

One sent a picture. The other only words. It's like having two lovers. And like having none.

The dot to the dash becomes an image. The floor finds itself under my ear listening to the echo of distant footsteps.

The finger presses down on the thoughts. Stamping out silhouettes of people in little black letters.

Once it meant I still was real. That lives out there still bore the fingerprints. The girl who briefly shrugged on a woman's skin. To tease the void inside. Wake it up.

But that thickening in my gut didn't fill the hole. It only added weight to the emptiness.

Saturday 9/16/2006 11:30:00 PM

Friday's too soon. Saturday's too late. When you're looking for the people you don't know anymore. The doll on the dresser grinning rubber teeth. Its lipstick faded. Plastic arms stuck in an empty embrace.

I count the broken hairs at the top of my head. Wondering how long they were that way before I noticed.

Waiting for the sound. Skeletons of happiness crawling inside flattened skins. Making dead things move.

It's always morning. Even when it's dark. Waking up to sober lamps. Hungry windows. While the world out there pretends to know. Who we are.

And I still watch it wondering how I'll ever get there.

The lights go out all the time here. I don't mind the dark. Nothing to do is more than I could ever want. Just hate the waiting. Always waiting.

For them to come back on.

9/16/2006 12:58:00 AM

He told me I was right. I didn't believe it until years later.

The cat's foot finally retracting its claws. All the scratches telling where it had walked.

Maybe I'm old enough now. Maybe I always was. The kindling for the fire tucked away by those stingy corners. Where the stark angles of life try to mingle. As if this weather isn't us. And that tornado wasn't always there.

He admitted I was right about being wrong. And we stopped there. The debate relenting with swollen hooves. How many laps it would take to win.

It didn't seem to matter then. And it doesn't seem to matter now. How old I might be. China eyes counting the shadows we tend to forget.

Stalled chapels in the words we've never said.

All these years knowing him, I still wonder who I'm talking to.

The lamb or the lion.

He was right.

Spare me a moment. Lend me your dominoes. I don't know what I want.

The color of the leaf once its hit the ground.

Friday 9/15/2006 12:14:00 AM

It's six in the morning. No one's there. Day. Night. It's still decidiing. Summer. Fall. It isn't sure. Neither am I.

The walls were grinning with rusty, old lips. Sweet croissants vexing at the shape of my kiss. No teeth. Biting down soft again. It's become so easy to just sit. And do nothing.

Falling apart at every sigh. Coming together in those meanwhiles.

In the last few drops. The most inocuous phase of the disease. I see the futility in trying to hold on. To how it feels. Or did before.

Finger on the switch.

The bulb is dead.

Life always has a wager. It falls on me to call its bluff.

Wednesday 9/13/2006 12:26:00 AM

I woke up waiting. Just the way I'd gone to bed. With that crater in my hand claiming it could fill me. And a color almost, but not quite orange trying to be his lips. Some half-assed fire trying to persuade me I'm not shivering.

We don't say much. But we still listen. Waiting on the statement in the mail that proves we don't owe anything.

We've paid our debts.

Don't you get records in the mail anymore? Like we used to when sound was still important. When voices would finger paint our expressions onto these mannequins we take to bed.

Don't you listen to the whole song. Not just the lyrics. Not just the melody.

Put them together and tell me what you hear.

Are we still sleeping alone?

The sound pushes, but won't shove. It's always apologizing for things we've done to ourselves.

There's no one next door. At least for the time being.

Tuesday 9/12/2006 11:20:00 PM

"I’m alright, alright, I feel alright
I never been better in my life"

Can't you tell? The semen's soft on the wall. The sheets are listening to our skin. We're not the people who shut that that door and let the darkness write the script. All that's left of us is the breath it took to say those words.

The ones we can't remember now. Lying in this holocaust of flesh.

We're all right.

We're old enough to know we don't need to find ourselves. We're better off losing us. One weakness at a time. Until we're nothing.

It's a sour candy on a pointed stick. How wryly time seduces empty lives. With its brilliant ignorance.

Until nothing is enough.

"I’m alright, alright, I feel alright
I never been better in my life"

- quoted lyrics by five for fighting

9/12/2006 12:07:00 AM

I don't know the anchor from the oar. The moon from the sun. They all look the same. Digging the dirt up to go further into nowhere. Shaky fingers braiding my hair into knots that never come undone.

It starts out as just a strand.

The streets chug with life. Everyone going somewhere. Or else trying to look like they are. The phone chimes. I don't answer. Those waves have already broken. Not asking anymore. Just admitting the moment's been taken.

The hours. The darkness always promises to change us. But it never does. We remain the same empty bottles we've always left for someone else to find.

Trying to extract meaning from the most unlikely of friends. Drowning in goosebumps that don't last.

Wishing we had some control over the moments that've made us who we are.

Right turns. Or wrong ones. We still end up where we were going.

Sunday 9/10/2006 11:59:00 PM

Before there were stretch marks on my arms. Before I dreamt of cobras biting back their poison from inside of me. When the fangs were still my own. It seemed I'd never die. It still seems I never will.

Before he told me I was wrong. Playing the moon to my stars. As the stage sagged under our strut. Every word a weight to carry back to where the curtain waited patiently. For our dialogue to turn. And face it. Fumbling soliloquies that try, but can't prove what we were. Nor turn us into who we want to be.

I was right. I was wrong. Always have been. Notched bed post thudding against my skull as I try to lseep. As I search for what there is left to feel. Flowers still left to put on graves unmarked. Eulogies in paper airplanes waiting for an empty runway.

There's nowhere else to go. No place I haven't been. Plastic faces flaunt their broken rubber bands and dare me to try them on. Look through those slits and try to see.

What used to be there. The quake of the chorus as it would let the song go.

The empty bottles in his stare when I said it wasn't enough.

9/10/2006 12:00:00 AM

They said why would you do that to yourself. My answer. Because there was nothing else to do.

And it felt good at the time. So good. So good I still want it back sometimes. It didn't hurt at all.

My Rapunzel in her tower shaved bald. The only thing left to let down was my guard.

My Snow White's poison apple bitten. Her Prince Charming otherwise engaged. The only option was to work with the spell. Use the poison my life had asumed.

Tackle the wings one feather at a time until only the skeleton was left. Rearrange the bones. The joints. Until falling felt like flying.

The best part was I didn't have to choose between him and something else.

We could always leave and go back to being ourselves. No traces of what had transpired in the lives we we'd built.

All those shaky frames trembling in earnest as we weighed height against strength.

I was more than strong enough until. I had to decide how much I could take with me after he was gone.

Saturday 9/09/2006 12:17:00 AM

In my broken coup I saw the flag on the floor. Moments abbreviated in color. I know that you meant what you said, but that doesn't make it real.

Driving from the backseat. Listening with my eyes. I can't see where I'm going, but I like the sound the blindness scraping in my head. I like remembering how so much more than being there when.

Because it's never real. You only try to say it is. With words as ripe as dandelions. Sighs blinking out in the wind.

I still see where the shadows wait for us to make them again. In the soft folds of the paint as it laughs across these walls. So much more eager than I am to remember the poses we've discarded.

Every portrait unfinished. Hard brushes sealed in paint. There are more than enough canvases.

But only so many colors I can trust.

I know you meant it to be true. And I wish it was.

Going down isn't so bad.

Thursday 9/07/2006 11:44:00 PM

The cellophane in his smile would crackle as he spoke. A makeshift ocean where the waves were guided by the cadence in his breath. Every look stuttering with words too big for his tongue.

Fluently dysfunctional. Is all that I am. A cold sore in the first kiss.

No complaints. Just contemplation. Peering through a hole in the fence. Not looking for better. Just different.

Waiting for darkness to don its crown. Resume another quest for the grail. On chariots made of lead. Candy apple moments keep that old sweet stuck on the enamel. Tainting the flavor of anything else I try to swallow.

But how I taste it matters more than what it is. Stealing happiness from memory. Every now is a treason. Every hour a Judas swinging from its tree. Guilty enough for the both of us. Willing to accept forgiveness may not comply. The toad in the crown awaits its kiss.

He wants to be changed, but maybe you're not the one to do it.

I know you feel the same way.

It smells like wine, but tastes like piss whenever we try be be us.

Tuesday 9/05/2006 11:31:00 PM

"Who are you talking to?", he asked.

"Myself", I said without a trace of sarcasm.

There's only the one voice, but it has so many things to say. Pleading with the rope to tighten as it limply squeezes the tree.

Who am I talking to? I'm talking to us. But we don't listen.


You're not there I thought. This earthquake in my skull has no source. No center.It doesn't even really move. It's but a tiny rock surrounded by lifetimes of ocean. Smaller and smaller still as each wave speaks to it.

It was March and I still had clothes I could wear. The kind that make women of girls and boys of men. Slipped into as nylons. Other skins. Barely there. Drowned in as bottles. The morning after my only witness.

I'm as innocent. And as guilty. As anyone.

For wanting what isn't mine.

Who am I talking to?


No one.

9/05/2006 10:39:00 PM

Which is worse?

Never having been loved (the in love kind) because you're not very cute and neither is your personality or getting a bill from the IRS saying you owe them over twelve grand because some internet company you work for filed your 1099 in quadruplicate?

Don't bother answering. I already know. Having experienced both.

It's definitely the second one.

I wonder if they let you blog from prison?

9/05/2006 12:26:00 AM

No more surprises. Hands made of clay shaped by the force of surrender. The feathers of his promise straining for flight against an ambivalent wind. I tried to let it go. Cut the moon out of its starry casket. But the scissors have failed me. As from behind I try their blade.

He took a drag on his beer and asked what I'd be doing tomorrow. I just shrugged and nodded toward window. Something out there. Where I chase myself. Because no one else knows who I am.

It must've been his skin still caught under my tongue. Because as he turned to ask his next question I tasted it before he'd put it on my plate. The more I ate the hungrier I became.

It was too quiet as we pulled out of the parking lot. The wink of the right turn signal inviting so much risk. It was better then I think. When I had the hurt to look forward to. All that melting ice cream to lick.

No more surprises I thought as he said he had to go.

Monday 9/04/2006 01:47:00 AM

The rabbit's toe barely touched the hem. Of the comforter as it struggled to cover us. We were bigger than we'd ever been. Too busy carving toothpicks out of mountains to notice gravity's frown.

There is love like children do. With wicker baskets to catch the fallen fruit. And there love for adults. Open graves staring up from their holes. Cadavers wearing too much makeup.

Touching the hairs that make it real. We live in our bruised houses. Spit out our broken children. Waiting for the answer.

Faulting the moon for lies it never told.

I watch you spilling everywhere, but pretend I don't notice.

Leaving the luxury of death to you.

9/04/2006 12:04:00 AM

I expected anything but sweaters. Layers of them. LIke icing gone rogue on birthday cakes. Candles no one had bothered to light. The crack in the corner of my lips begging to be bitten. It's the why that's always puzzled me. Why live like animals do simply because we were born. And yet find no fault with killing them.

He didn't have a scent. None that I can remember. But the twtitch of his eyes still comes back to me now and then. When I try to picture msyself atop him. Bearing down on that blade. Reality finding its footing in stretching skins.

I make my own pain. They are only the cutrains that decide when the scene will change. Characters stolen from deep inside. Lovers culled from rotting branches.

Fruitlessly talking to the dead.

Saturday 9/02/2006 11:49:00 PM

Green eyelashes on the ceiling. Look me down and up. I don't need walls to know where it must stop. The edge is always there. Cooing softly from its bottom.

There's always time for demolition. Rented lives are given back. And these walls grow new skins.

To wear the sight. A sheer skirt around my throat. As the hem is adjusted to match. How small I've become. It's all in the word. The squeeze of their buckle cinching tight around my thoughts. It turns every look to paper. Too delicate to be drawn upon.

And I'm left waiting to see again.

My heart constantly masturbating to the sound of itself. Offer me a predator. Something to run from.

9/02/2006 11:13:00 PM

With my vision in one hand I went down. Culled in a hungry darkness. Written in words I don't understand. The hour pressing on my shoulders as the light I held began to dim.

Weighing every step. They are getting heavy.

I could turn the fire off. Stifle this cauldron and all its spells. By just making one choice. Someday I suspect I will. Become that girl again. That veiny leaf that shouts from its sidewalk grave.

Give me back my tree. Give me back what's mine.

Not willing to fall. Nor be replaced.

What is ugly now was so beautiful then. The miter of the broken heart squeezing itself into those narrow corners. Every angle obeying its scream.

It couldn't have been more right then.

It couldn't be more wrong since.

We decided the void was proof enough. Of whatever it was we were trying to be.

Friday 9/01/2006 11:27:00 PM

Distraught with the syntax of the moment. I hadn't heard the music for hours.

var now = "when?";
var us = "who?";
var then = "before";
function go( )
{
lives.lived.if (us + now + then);
return = false;
}

We lived just a little bit. More than enough.

By the time the music came back into my thoughts I'd corrected the coding, but still couldn't make the ouput any different than it had always been.

Still just skin. No matter what arguments I append to it.

9/01/2006 11:15:00 PM

Congratulations to the
winners of the Lonely Moon short fiction contest
.

Thanx Jason and Anne for my Honorable Mention.

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