Monday, November 9, 2009

counting the times, simply.




















it's twelve thirty-seven, and you're dancing.
swaying in the wind. reaching for the colder air.
the room is spinning, thick with noise
thin and stretched, pulling beats apart.
your legs get lazy,
your eyes get heavy.
it's easier to move when you can't see.
counting the times, simply.

Monday, November 2, 2009

a few seconds.














subconscious. i feel my mouth start to curl.
you're telling another animated story about some startling situation.
i could laugh inwardly all day at your cleverness.

inwardly.

you wrap my fingers up like presents. i can't feel mine. but i feel yours.
you're the wind that bites at my collarbones, the satisfying sting, the burning feeling when you warm up.
when you glance at me, i want to fall away.
when you stare at me, i want to hide in you.

you're the perfect hiding spot, the space under the bed, the anticipation of being found.
i want to be found.

Thursday, October 29, 2009



this day was so perfect.

we could put on the same shoes and the same coats and illustrate another perfect day. what do you say?

let's watch the leaves stain the sidewalk and paint our eyes the color of the sky. we could wrap ourselves in autumn and lay our heads on what's left of summer. when we wake up in the middle of the park, we won't know how long we were sleeping. but we won't mind.

Monday, October 26, 2009

so you say



















i want to hide in the volcano trees
leaves that burn my eyes
your eyes burn holes through me
and i squint to catch the sunbursts
bits of gold glimmer around your eclipses
i reminisce, instances where i get lost in you
you are all hands and lips and shoulders
mine are yours to hold
i say that all i want is for you to be unhappy.
but if you wanted,
you could hide with me in my volcano tree
where we'd sit all day and smolder
we'd glow like the fires that burn the volcano tree leaves.

Monday, October 12, 2009

some time, now.




you are the first breath
when i lay down to sleep
of lingering, mingling stress and relief
a festering, flustering hope for a dream
but i don't sleep much anymore.

you are the melody
that echoes through halls
a beat that enthralls
when my spirit starts to fall
but i don't sleep much anymore.