river bed trichster. laughing at lila's bench at walnut hill.. for warmth and wisdom and prosperity. let this knot slide over and under my tongue-- the stiff cushy texture collapsing under my molars...
chicken fried gravy overflowing through the crackle puffs of giant sounds...i have wandered for a while and found a place to stand tall but something came from behind and pushed me against the giant oak and i almost fell. there are no double dips. no second helpings here. somehow i look behind and i can barely notice the shadows popping out...hiding there to remind me of luck and chances...take two and call me in the morning..take three and chide me softly under lover's hushed breath....take five and well...good luck. the peeling of the apple of your spirit was at such a rapid rate i couldn't take my eyes and ears away and it took me a moment to register it all...can i stomach it all in one highly concentrated fuck fest of an evening? i know what you are thinking.. I am here with the shadow enemy flutterer. lunacy caulks my heart. measures it in paper mache and twine...and a silly silly impulse. sample me some saplings and overtake me with a force i knew before. i may not be able to be with you but it doesn't mean i don't hear your voice and think of you every moment i see a garden.....i saw those blooms and an overwhelming feeling of what i wanted threatened to take me there at once-- but i swallowed hard and ran upstairs to take solace in the everyday...and all it's unhappenings.

that's right we all should write slogan and posters to reveal the tasty disgusting treats inside....

how you could just stare at the momentary fragments of the wonderful breasts in a moment of made up intoxication. how horrific to think we could all blame it on a celestial blackout. like we just decided to walk a certain way and have it be ok with the board and everyone who thinks boobs are great. no really aderaol changes life constancy and the weight of comfort is slightly different than say the boss at midday.

make me breathe again. i cant speak underneath this pressure that weighs on my chest as you lie so close to me... and tell me things i cant hear.... i don't notice your words or your touch or the long long long time spent in the bathroom covering yourself with moisturizer and pleasure at my expense, at OUR expense....

when have we lost our voice? when was it ok to laugh at you exposing yourself to me?

brush that shit off. literally speak. i am not jest or cougar or teen fan club but just me marveling at how many times the magistrate lingers openly wondering whaT I look like naked.

so i sit here listening, menacing hoping it wont hurt my voice as you describe him touching you that way and i want to break every bone in his body my lovely.....

i cant spell or sing anymore. suddenly it becomes ok for beloved to profess things openly online but not to each others spent breaking the fixtures over tom's friends house....why r we here talking about this and not celebrating in justice spent over a natural disaster?

why cant we escape?...why cant i tell him to stop touching my feet and to leave our fucking house we created?: i remember your glaze as you realized he wouldn't leave until you made him so....i felt unworthy of your presence and wondered what had happened to the girl who spoke so openly and protected lies luxurious happenstance,.. sunday newspaper heavy hurricane starlings.

this isnt ok, okay? dont touch my friend ok? just because you gave me aderaol doesn't mean i have to suck your dick ok? i though you were my friend but you were really a kite running morphine laced douchebag...

. lets stop this chat over stella and Guinness. Your look to me spells bristols courage. i have known you years ago as a child when you played cards with such a light light hand....make up stories we will get along faster. i almost puked today as i coughed so hard from ragweed's infestations in long struma youth. i wonder if tomorrow we might hold hands and start over?

my darling... you bare strength and symmetry... and i want to cry for the feelings i have for you. you are so close to sisterdom its almost motherly. it is real or the laced up crystals forming in helplessness? i'm almost overcome with guilt.

tragic daybreak silverdom question our pines and our maples...please allow the surrender supreme for the moment that surpasses is ours at least until the next time.....

occam's razor

i fear the flicker lights ember quiver upon the air resting on my tongue
teach me light and quickly maybe we can find out who gets to first base first
paint me a languid furnished soundrum

i relinquish the posh power hither farther than our wildest emoticons.

this hearted heated line we have drawn has faded like hopscotch chalk and i recognize the desire to be recognized to talk for the sake of talking no thoughts-

no restraint upon silver foxes in silverscreen helen keller style.

remind of dr suess again i cant remember if its green eggs or horton...

ill sit there trapped in mahogany and glass using an instrument of separative communicative purposes.
press me against this imaginary hexagon and filter nothing but soundless winchester's giant growl..

to have felt the way you do in high school would be too simplified. but it was high school. and i was under the covers talking with you through blurry lenses and wondering when i heard the birds why we couldn't just walk the six blocks to your silent garden of pickled pears and evident confusions.

last time i checked you were a wolf dis guised as a puppy.

i had one dream of you videotaping miracles and talking over them as they settle into magnificence. The video was pure wonder as I stood transfixed but you voice was too loud over the image and it took me out of it splendor and dulled my perception.

was it ennui or einsamkeit that took me into this lunacy that was created to for me lust for something so different i held out.

true true tell these silent listeners what the difference between imagination and reality is? i would like to know who i have been talking to the last month.

house of dreams a farmer painted all in blue. the sliding glass door is closed save a smidgen... id open it but a silent scream that loud might shatter my ear drums.