a new title every day

descend. quickened vines.

choke. a pause.

aromatic suffocation of bliss.

begin again.

arrive.

here.

you know. but you don't.

neither of us will ever.

jagged.

beware.

be warned.

be warm.

be one.

dumb

this is how it feels when I lie

with my hands.

with what I do.

with all my time.

to you.

I don't deal in

time machines.

or projecting smiles

on movie screens.

this is how it looks when I suck.

but just as icebergs,

and bruises,

and arguments,

and the little thread that lazily asks to be pulled from your sweater,

I know there's more involved than a symptom.

this is how it sounds when you sigh.

you can pull down the curtains,

and save the dusty lights,

you can forget the shows and matinees,

if we aren't feeling right.

I could care less about figuring out how to plan my day.

truly.

If I could find your head's address in that shimmering

jiminy cricket phone book, I would track down your

braindoors and leave a stack of my thoughts.

mostly about you. don't tell anyone.

well, shit, if you did, they would tell you the same message from the notes.

i've got you...

(and I hold you closer)

under my skin.

thank you.

I'm getting there.

I really should take more vitamins

shiverss

scrapeng

lethargek

I have a bone to pick with my lover, art,

I have a won't to kick from my cover. Start

a process of foundation for my heart

to sing and bring me water to dissolve all'f

my fears and steer me from a bigger question.

I suppose the mistress that is, in reality,

a pigment

in a stroke

from the field

of a painting

says a dream:

will remain elusivvv.

ART! YOU SAID YOU WOULD WAIT FOR ME!

No, not surprised. I'm apparently just as flakey.

(change of thought)

But it's because there's always something more to learn.

is that why I don't call? yup.

Because there's always something more to learn. Out there! From the OTHER PEOPLE!

I'm currently 24,

working on a year of strident starvation; trading hours of sleep for hand-me-downs from

scattered artistic fathers and mothers.

I like it. I get it. Kinda.

BUT JUST THAT. I KINDA GET IT! I BARELY GET THIS! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET WHAT YOU'RE GOING THROUGH EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY!?

is this because I don't tell you everything? because I haven't filled out a questionnaire on my own life and left it indiscreetly on the ledge of your nose?

DOESN'T CHANGE my LOVE FOR YOU. JUST MEANS THAT YOU NEED TO FIND your LOVE SOMEWHERE!

and I suppose that's the point.

Just as food,

or movies,

or sport,

or music,

or poems,

or afternoons,

or jobs:

Friendship is a distinctly different color in the back of each person's eyes.

we can barely agree on anything. why should friendship be any different?

doesn't mean I can't love you.

doesn't mean I can't care.

just means we should talk more. out loud.

(back to art)

:) i like the way you feel in my hands.

when I am learning or teaching, art, you

seem a little dangerous.

keep it up.

give me those tingles.

My skrix

like a knife in a neck, I got skrix thas a fakk.

Im the clue to a puzzer, chompin dohz in a muzzer

I felf a little iffy when I sef the world on fearz

turn the tv on quikk wi'needle noze plearz!

the clip in the reel that got cut from the show,

my only owned skrix pleasure tied in a bow.

I got ten toze tearin trakks, teashin tykes to tremble,

divin down dem dykes dousin daylight in a thimble!

keep out! keep out! I gossummfin in my fenguz,

clop clopin on pave stonz dream of karaoke senguz.

done.

In the clutches

I want to try all of it.

To waste away with a mark on every list.

Claiming every station as my home.

But I'll never grow better at anything.

I need to find a passion.

That burns like a screaming arrow.

Straight up, into my brain.

Something I can't let loose.

Then I will tear away and drown in it,

like a scrupulous toddler in a picture book,

diving and quaking in my revelations.

I will be defined.

Eventually, all I will be good at will be withering,

taking the scenic route to a wall with no story.

Waiting for someone to turn my chair towards a window.

It's dark with the shades drawn.

But now I can't seem to rest;

I attempt every second second

at each dangerous trinket of a skill.

Something to write home about.

Something to write about alone about.

Waiting for the rights to tell every passerby:

I DID THIS, I DID, I SWEAR, I CAN PROVE IT!

It's a little prideful.

Selfish coin set aspinnin',

and every glance you take,

I'm a different glint of arrogant.

But I'm pretty enough for neutrality.

I share my thoughts much too freely.

Like a barrage of letters

from the same no. 1 fan!

You're already swamped reading the first word.

But I mean well, I mean what I mean;

no malice, no argument, I don't care enough to hate.

But I don't know if I care enough to really give.

Which brings us back to doe.

I need to fire myself from speaking,

a gag, a bandana, a mask, and a lock.

So I will listen for once.

Truly, to listen and dutifully so.

high ho! Onwards towards september!