inkstained skin:.: May 2011

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

moonlight's stifled by the choking curtains,
and it's something like love, something like heartache,
that curls around my heart, curls around my thighs.

i think, if i could bottle up all the empty wishes i had for you,
the pacific would look like a puddle.

heartb e a t s

[pulvis et umbra sumus.]

the s t a r s, the m o o n, they have all blown out; you left me in the d a r k.

no d a w n, no d a y, i'm always in this twilight, in this shadow of your h e a r t.

and in the dark, i can hear your heart b e a t; i tried to find the sound.

but then, it s t o pped and i was in the darkness so darkness i became.

-: cosmic love; florence and the machine

--i'm living somewhere between the plane of reality and the shadows of illusions. spill, spill, spill the ink and the words across the pages because it's better than letting it rot it in my heart like tar and shadows and tendrils of toxic fog.

it's these moments--these freezeframed forevers in my mind's eye -- that make up humanity and sometimes, sometimes we forget that in our grey-sky, grey-horizon, grey-footpath lives.

and, i figure, it's better to write all these words and similes and metaphors and errant thoughts, better to [ground] them than to let them fade a w a y and r i p and t e a r on napkins and bits of scrap paper and skin.

Amore, more, ore, re.

(latin sounds cool)

i write because all these words need to go somewhere and he needs to be remembered. Human life is so transient and effervescent, flickering like candles, and he will burn forever.

Yet do they worst old Time; despite thy wrong,

My love shall in my verse ever live young.

- W. Shakespeare; Sonnet 19

inkstained skin:.

written in the stars

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

bundle of joy

jumping in puddles

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Spring is ending

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