tracing your lips and touching your face

Have we gone too far

for this to be all that we are?

My finger goes a walking, and your open smile, it follows

to satisfy the itches that I haven’t learned to find

And my fingers do the walking

While your body does the talking…

***

Carseats and bedsheets

backstreets and baths

blindfolds and bloodstains

ice cubes and mind games

***

I’m feeling the hot tears

roll down my cheeks into my ears

and I can hear you only faintly

Just enough to know you hate me

now

and I feel the breath

of each  word

but I know I’ve only half heard

what I told myself Id have to face

and find the strength to leave this place

But Oh

These words are still your voice

I make this choice

and I will never see your eyes

as they look back at me, don’t lie

you don’t mean it

This fight that you have joked about

I’m choking now

on what I should have said, But I just

laughed along instead

***

I’ll let them love me to my bones

And in the morning, be alone

With me lips, my hips, my ribs and thighs

But at least I’ll still have pretty eyes

***

My head hurts when I think of it

Like trying to imagine a forever and ever and ever…

***

And you gave me cardboard cutouts

With finger-painted suits and noses

Jewelry boxes with cerial box rings

And milk crates filled with paper roses

We’re snuggling into crunchy leaves

And building bears from melted snow

Racing to bed before we get caught

and blue-tack buttons, Cause I can’t sew

on our little red leather couch

sitting on  a goldmine

and digging for change

Sailing away on crimson waves

on our little red leather couch

Talking bout the weather

how it’s good to be together

in our own little clever little way

Here we go

On our little red leather couch

Talking bout tomorrow and the years to come

The sun goes down, and we’re still sitting round

In our over-sized sweaters

Oh it couldn’t be better

and my feet will never ever, never touch the ground

Where’d you hide

From our little red leather couch

My feet have gotten cold, and I’ve nobody to hold

My sweater fits well, and the weather is hell

And I shouldn’t have cried when the leather couch died

But you made it what it was

with your body shaped to fit

Me, all alone

on my cold wooden floor

with a piece of red leather and the weather is hell

Does it make me strange, If I’m terrible with change

without a little red leather

and a goosedown pillow feather

Well I guess it could be better

but you never can tell

Has ever said they loved me true

And she

Was just a little out of my straight line

But I was sure

I had to search for something more

I found it there, and let it grow

But couldn’t face the questions, so

I’m here, standing here

Is it what you always dreamed of

or you feared?

It’s not so simple

I may be the mess

That sets you on your way

This is the sun

That will not set on questions

So today

Make me your answer

Curiosity won’t kill you

Only two

Have ever felt the same way I did too

But they were just a little

Too much skin for me

Although

I know

That three’s a crowd I’ve grown to like

I’m daring to hope that you don’t mind one on one, on one

I’m thinking that you’ve thought it through

the ups and downs, and downs and ups

And I’m in between

I’ll help you weigh it up

I make a mean martini

I’m here, standing here

is it what you always dreamed of

or you feared?

It’s not so simple

I may be the mess

That sets you on your way

This is the sun

That will not set on questions

So today

Make me your answer

Curiosity won’t kill you

Only I

Can tell you how it feels

To love the skin

That’s just a little thin

To withstand the pain that came

With living in this glasshouse

Trace your fingers down my wrist

The place you’ve always loved to kiss

I’m here standing here

Is it what you always dreamed of

or you feared?

it’s not so simple

I may be the mess

That sets you on your way

This is the sun

That will not set on questions

So today

Make me your answer

Curiosity wont kill you, I don’t think…

So how about that drink?

Growing on me, chasing strange addictions through me

Dreams, Romantic fictions fill my inspired silences

And I am creatively stale.

Whatever it is you have stirred inside me

Blots out the ink, instead it hides me

Locked in a world of exclusive recluses

I can lose myself

And not lose you

Until we’re lost

With no excuses

No more desires of explaination

Gone are the days of aesthetic creation

Those falsities of which I knew nothing

But when painted well, it was hard to tell.

I write this with distraction, at a loss for complete attention or clarity.

I write this with the knowledge of receiving eyes, ears, without the time or awareness to resist. My captive audience.

In this state, I write. Not in wait for a quiet park, sunny courtyard or lonely evening; but in revelation of little time, with no true purpouse or emotion.  Are these moments worthy of written thought?

I write this as one, influenced by none, though fully aware  that no truth goes untold, no story unwritten, and cetainly no rhyme repeated in it’s artificial compensation, without additional sketches, or floral inflections.

With this knowledge in mind and at heart, I write. Doubtful of sincere praise, without expectation of polite observation- none which will go unnoticed as the true favours which they are, that is.

This is nothing.

The only problem, which I feel is more of a positive consequence than a problem, is that these little writings often turn into artistic expressions, as opposed to factual recollections. Creative writing is an enormous part of who I am and how I have learned to express myself, and I find these colourful twists make my experiences all the more personaland universal.

There are blogs and journals floating around, with scattered thoughts and memories of my own, so if I ever happen to come across one that relights a flame or inspires something new, I will be sure to put it up.

For now, my experiences are open for interpretation through the poems, songs and stories found here.

enjoy

As I am barely conscious
This blissful, sweet fragility
I’m empty, It’s perfect
Juts melting in my sheets
Just one second, til I roll over
And then I’m turning back again

How did I sleep with the heat in my shoulders
The absent resolve that I’m yearning, I’m craving
Where is the sandman? He stole all my bitterness
And now the wound is fresh again
It’s tearing at my flesh again
I’ll never rest my head again

I’m dreaming, my dreams in
My not so stable mind, but still
I’m moving, I’m feeling
What little I can find until
I hear you, I hear it
The heat it shakes me, burning wakes me
One sweet second more

Try not to think
Don’t blink
Just sink
Don’t think
It’s gone
It’s been and gone

I’m moving, I’m turning
There’s only so much apprehension
Only, one second
Before I change my mind, but still
This second, my second
of silence, you’ve stolen it
And I won’t let you run this time
I won’t keep holding on
I swear to God this has to end
Why can’t I sleep in peace
And wake the same
For more than just one second
When you’re mine

For someone who is always on my feet
You keep me on my toes

These memories of rolling down hills
As we capture the moments where everything’s fine
For a time
Til I’m turning again, with this fear in my head
That today is the day where the seconds roll by
And I’m losing my mind
And we’re wasting our time

This second, my second of silence
The longest second I’ve had to endure

I am dancing in the dark
and it seems, to be seen
by the roadside, barefooted
as I twist and I lean
in my dance in the darkness
With blindness and beauty
my senses are led
When even the owls, in the knots of the trees
choose to woo at the moon
instead
Still, I go on dancing
not a question in mind
for the quiet that moves me
the silence, my rhythm
is felt in the beat of my skin
and I find
as it sweats through my veins
quick and heavy
the energy swims
and the silence remains
as headlights, a blur
and the streetlights above
turn to inkblots
in the lids of my eyes
and I’m gone
turning, spinning, absorbed in the nothing
that I have become
as it fills me
this static that lurches and leaps
in my chest
in my hands
in my feet
as I dance
in my world of black ink
with the owls and the moon
and the filth on my feet
with a curious heat
burns my skin
from within
and I’m gone
one, two, six
one, two, nine
one, two, one
holds the time
and it’s mine
in my dance in the dark