storm warnings
This is how my breath escapes me. This is how the night unfolds. Clouds clot, heat lingers, so much taken as settled when it is only the conflict that plods. The world swept in peals of light and shadow, turning for the ten thousand reasons that do not include you or me. We refract and genuflect, the long yawning continuity of life scurrying...
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This is how my breath escapes me. This is how the night unfolds. Clouds clot, heat lingers, so much taken as settled when it is only the conflict that plods. The world swept in peals of light and shadow, turning for the ten thousand reasons that do not include you or me. We refract and genuflect, the long yawning continuity of life scurrying...
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the moth in the pine
Another love letter, and I am nowhere to be seen. Even the moon arrives before me. Always the shuffling in the dust, forever that mistaken constellation. You are the measure between the limits of the mirror and that relentless escape of light. You are the crossroads of this wishing and all lingering proof. You are my thoughts caught in slow...
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Another love letter, and I am nowhere to be seen. Even the moon arrives before me. Always the shuffling in the dust, forever that mistaken constellation. You are the measure between the limits of the mirror and that relentless escape of light. You are the crossroads of this wishing and all lingering proof. You are my thoughts caught in slow...
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nausea
The earth shifts, the air you just inhaled seems to slip away. Something sour blooms, something unclean at your very core. The bile choked back whispering acid up your throat, teeth clenched to hold back the inevitable. The sickness holds sway over the senses. The sickness rises from the depths of the void.
Unwell, the hours clot, teary eyes dousing any semblance of a...
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The earth shifts, the air you just inhaled seems to slip away. Something sour blooms, something unclean at your very core. The bile choked back whispering acid up your throat, teeth clenched to hold back the inevitable. The sickness holds sway over the senses. The sickness rises from the depths of the void.
Unwell, the hours clot, teary eyes dousing any semblance of a...
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abject permanence
The time runs down, all our days a mingling of mistakes of action and mistakes of thought. Tomorrow ends up our only orphan, all the lights left on and the fan blowing soft. The ants on the high branches, the sweat trickling down my shoulders and chest. The mythology of the moment forgiveness and the fleeting glimpse of object permanence. The facts of...
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The time runs down, all our days a mingling of mistakes of action and mistakes of thought. Tomorrow ends up our only orphan, all the lights left on and the fan blowing soft. The ants on the high branches, the sweat trickling down my shoulders and chest. The mythology of the moment forgiveness and the fleeting glimpse of object permanence. The facts of...
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xxxholic:
You ever just gaze at the stars at night??
confess
I am only fit to speak to my imagination, the world having long ago exceeded my grasp. The fleeting glimpse, the mournful distance, the depths to which all truths have fled. I slide across the shadow, that flicker of tooth all bite and smile. The absolute manifest in the contrasts. The definition complete only with its opposite intact. The blinders of language always painting...
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I am only fit to speak to my imagination, the world having long ago exceeded my grasp. The fleeting glimpse, the mournful distance, the depths to which all truths have fled. I slide across the shadow, that flicker of tooth all bite and smile. The absolute manifest in the contrasts. The definition complete only with its opposite intact. The blinders of language always painting...
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shake
I scuff my measure along tile and carpet, this tread the soil beneath the field, the shuffle of the story plodding on in the dark. The crack of ice resounds down this idling spine, the work of the world entangled in cobweb and dust. Every step a shift and a continuity, all the proof of this wide open universe the stubbed toe and the...
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I scuff my measure along tile and carpet, this tread the soil beneath the field, the shuffle of the story plodding on in the dark. The crack of ice resounds down this idling spine, the work of the world entangled in cobweb and dust. Every step a shift and a continuity, all the proof of this wide open universe the stubbed toe and the...
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certain
The ocean is only the beaded water on your skin, the sand just the pressed insistence of your thighs. The air is a rollick , drowned in spray and thunder. The day the glaze of greedy light upon your flesh. All these blessed definition awaken with you. All these flames and markers strewn without.
It is like the lie of constellations, irresistible once it...
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The ocean is only the beaded water on your skin, the sand just the pressed insistence of your thighs. The air is a rollick , drowned in spray and thunder. The day the glaze of greedy light upon your flesh. All these blessed definition awaken with you. All these flames and markers strewn without.
It is like the lie of constellations, irresistible once it...
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sakuraredd:
wow,what a beautiful comment<3<3
thank you so much hun,i hope you are having a great day
thank you so much hun,i hope you are having a great day
what the light confides
From my front porch I see that the hills are burning. A burning crown and a flag of drowsy smoke. The sun so long ago swept away into the deepening east. It is a condition of the season here. Another dangerous sign particular to the time.
We cannot help but read into these things. We cannot help but to invent a...
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From my front porch I see that the hills are burning. A burning crown and a flag of drowsy smoke. The sun so long ago swept away into the deepening east. It is a condition of the season here. Another dangerous sign particular to the time.
We cannot help but read into these things. We cannot help but to invent a...
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dispossessed
It climbs through the cracks in the hours, hours breaking in waves and sparks. It creeps through the broken laughter of distant voices, falling from the trees and stars. It slips into your skin, mild as an idle shiver. Simple as goose-flesh from a breeze. It is all of your thinking when your thoughts grow wild. It is every empty sky and vacant lot...
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It climbs through the cracks in the hours, hours breaking in waves and sparks. It creeps through the broken laughter of distant voices, falling from the trees and stars. It slips into your skin, mild as an idle shiver. Simple as goose-flesh from a breeze. It is all of your thinking when your thoughts grow wild. It is every empty sky and vacant lot...
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lassitude
The clotted feel of the sky is lifted at once, the sun goes out and everything is lit again. The pitch of the horizon line, the submerged clarity of the sky left above the sun. My blunted eyes see better at dusk, the change of palette favoring my limits, which I continue to accrue even as my abilities diminish. The day is in the...
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The clotted feel of the sky is lifted at once, the sun goes out and everything is lit again. The pitch of the horizon line, the submerged clarity of the sky left above the sun. My blunted eyes see better at dusk, the change of palette favoring my limits, which I continue to accrue even as my abilities diminish. The day is in the...
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remembered
The dusk comes, shining in the substance of your gaze. The sun sets, and in its passing leaves its essence in your flesh. It is the story stuck to the earth and sky. It is the myth that is mingled with the rush of blood. You in the subtleties of dust and memory. You in the shining only revealed with the arrival of the...
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The dusk comes, shining in the substance of your gaze. The sun sets, and in its passing leaves its essence in your flesh. It is the story stuck to the earth and sky. It is the myth that is mingled with the rush of blood. You in the subtleties of dust and memory. You in the shining only revealed with the arrival of the...
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xxxholic:
I really enjoyed this one! I noticed a lot of your writing has a night theme. Are you more drawn to the night?
get back
Enough with asking the night why. Enough with wishing for that faraway sky. The moth beats wings against the glass of the porch light burning shadows far into the yard. The owl shrieks so near and dead above. The cat it clambers and the dogs chase the dust. The star only speaks in distance. The heart only speaks of floods. Every breath reaching...
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Enough with asking the night why. Enough with wishing for that faraway sky. The moth beats wings against the glass of the porch light burning shadows far into the yard. The owl shrieks so near and dead above. The cat it clambers and the dogs chase the dust. The star only speaks in distance. The heart only speaks of floods. Every breath reaching...
Read More