workday #1532

I'm baffled by my inability to breathe in a seemingly well ventilated room. The silence is more than stifling, it's suffocating. A red-blooded human cannot survive inhaling the stale fumes of surrender emanating from the depths of this beige hell I've been sentenced to.
I pray for revolution.

my beloved

I get lost inside of you

your distant eyes

speak to me

your luscious smile

teases me

I get lost inside of you

your wicked mind

feeds me

your wounded heart

completes me

I get lost inside of you

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over my shoulder ~ 12.31.08

Slowly I walk
not towards but away from

I want faded pictures
of tiny objects viewed through squinted eyes

I want distant memories
of out of focus experience to share over coffee

I want impressionist paintings
of vague happenings to be all that lingers

Slowly I turn
not away from but towards...

forbidden

In those moments between

when we are almost touching

my skin on the verge of breaking

the fire that passes between us

destroys me, renders me defenseless

I am frozen, trapped in my desire for you

one slight movement, one breath

and I shall collapse

lost forever to this world

ebb ~ 11.7.08

I was feeling low and losery and wasting my life like and decided that Baudelaire may give me sweeter dreams so I picked a page and read of Cythera long and complex and beyond my knowing but ends with God give me strength to contemplate my soul and I was momentarily healed on the spot still willing to see what tomorrow brings not that I ever wouldn't want to see a tomorrow but it sounded good right so hello again the antisocial neurosis is on vacation or something or maybe it takes exactly thirty days to recover ones self after a terrorist attack on your/my psyche before Baudelaire remedied the six thousand four hundred and thirty fourth revolution of redundant broken brain that plagues the existence of my thinking thing I had probed the addiction vortex the hole that cannot be filled the hunger that increases when fed and pondered what exactly is missing that needs to be replaced but cannot and if you are prone to such things is it even possible to restore that which is absent or is the affliction permanent the pondering the contemplating the digging the aching the looking the searching the knowing

shaken and stirred ~ 8.20.08

muddled mumbly moments flow together with liquid confidence and the scenery shifts

swirling reds and swinging vines link humans to gods with umbilical precision

the crack of a bat hangs a question mark in the damp evening air

the crowds cheer as I walk the talk, shoulders back, assets forward

pull out the big guns baby, I'm ten feet tall, I'm a tall drink, a swagger

do the math, it adds up then subtracts itself, retracts itself to a quiet corner

just a minute please

deep breath, step back, size up the situation

launch one last attack of wit on the unsuspecting khaki coalition

sashay an extraction

the sun looming on the horizon looks an awful lot like truth and consequences for the invincible

restoration

Due to an overwhelming amount of fear I decimated what was my most treasured creation. Over the next days, weeks, months I will be restoring what I so foolishly destroyed approximately one year ago. Thank you to all that have the courage to put yourself out there. I am forever in your debt.

that explains everything

Can I borrow something a little sharper?
I can't quite scratch the surface with my dull point.