Wednesday Nov 16, 2005

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an ode to the bittersweet;

words better left unsaid.

ill turn it over and over again in my head,

until my head spins.

its insectile gnashing;

biting, munching, tearing, crunching...

...piercing.

it leaves a tender bruise.

a purple flower curled flesh-tone yellow,

i can feel it, it feels swollen.

an engorged parasite, belly full, and drunk.

a klusterfuck of 'ifs' and also 'buts'

because, as they say,

loose lips sink ships.

and the ship is yet buoyant, but buckles under pressure;

splinters, at the seams...

afloat, but without control, at the mercy of the sea.

battered, broken, weathered, leaking,

because of words better left unsaid.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
celery:
Last night I was at a bar on College ave with a twinkling martini glass above the door. I think the place is called the hut, but I rarely pay attention to important details. Anyway, my friend who is in medical school was telling stories from his anatomy class that would make even gunther von hagens stomach churn. Don't ask unless you really want to know. He was also reciting medical definitions of sexual acts which I believe anyone can enjoy. Foreplay Focused stimulation of variable duration and intensity to encourage a receptive psychological condition before congress can occur. sounds like poetry to me. Apparently his professor wrote the text book and is also a complete loon.
celery:
I want to meet you and do something like drink coffee outside.
Have you noticed how cold it is today? Yeah, its getting like that.
Intermezzo was the first place I was exposed to big ass salads. It changed my life in a way. I havent been back there in years.

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