No words for the confusion/
As from now the orbit of my sight is blue. Sluggards will sleep with dignity in my chambers, the bright lights of Rome will not startle them to life. They wiggle their toes and a child dies in Hankow.
I've been spitting blood for a week now, hope it's my teeth, better them than my guts; your mouth doesn't feel as internal as your "insides", vulnerable and raw to the touch.
Tell me your scars, know mine in return(is this how we take flight in dream?) I want to dream I love you and you dream it too, both be watchful of the damage that we do.
In New York City the street cleaners figured that sixteen million tons of paper were dumped out of office windows by the frenzied inhabitants during the Macarthur parade.
They had walked home under a bright moon, with a subtle note of doom let loose in so perfect a parting, the beginning of a forlorn end that could be fought against but not defeated.
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2 comments:
I am so profoundly happy that I found your blog here. I have been meaning to come to Camas since it opened, and will do so today, in hopes that sunday you arnt closed for church(joke).
thankyou for keeping this online journal, I really FEEEEL what you are sharing. Would love to meet you in person.
nasstasia
It really means a lot me that you are taking the time to wander through the dusty archives of my blog, it has undergone a few transformations since it first began.
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