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I would die
one thousand singular deaths
relive the final drawn
breath
of every martyr.
I would slide my soul
wet and naked
across the oily cesspools
of eternal hellfire.
I would do this
to have you
just once
look at me
and not
through me
we thought
that turning my wounds
into your salt lick
would be erotic
would negate their import
but as your tongue
ran its course
the pain crystallized
my thoughts
and i knew I would always be wrong
And what would this retribution be? What cost would you exact from me?What would you take?
My skin?
elastic and reflective
My laugh?
a mirror of you
These fingers, this sparkle, my will?What would you have me give to you?
Would we plumb the depths?
together?
Your hand in mine
would we search the
oil
the tissue
the rancid blotting of my soul?
Would you claw
as a raptor
on prey?
Would you sink into my flesh?
my bones?
my weary need?
Would you tear from me
all that I owed you?
all that I have never repaid?What would you leave in its place?
I really don't have anything to say about this.
I can play solitaire just fine.
What the hell. I'm watching all of you and you're all a bunch of horndogs! Everywhere i look, people are coupling like mad trying to get their hump on.
Is it the weather?
I'm not saying I'm opposed, or even that i'm not involved, just saying there seems to be some mass movement to getting laid.
It's music, it's a contest!!!
How can you go wrong? You can't. Do it and win.
Jason, in DC, you know who you are. Where the hell are you? Your domain's gone and my emails are bouncing. Don't make me worry about you again.
email me.
Go there, go see what the girl and the boy are up to. Go see Ornois and have fun.
It has nothing to do with itching either.
And the award for the best spam subject line goes to.....
ANAL ASTRONAUTS, YO!
Where was "Fake Plastic Trees" when I was in high school? Granted, I got all the angsty Seattle grunge I needed, but come on, Fake Plastic Trees would have been the song that I sang religiously before I slept each night and I would have written it out on the back of my notebook.
I would have had a quiet little cry as I thought of all the ways it sang directly to me.
Unfortunately, I'm all grown up now and angst is more amusing than painful. Still a good song, though.
I just got back from a whirlwind trip to Oregon to hang out with the Irish Boy. There is so much that could be written about my weekend and about the time we spent together, but ultimately everything I've written so far comes across as petty and trite.
Sigh.
So I had a wonderful weekend, I spent a lot of time with someone I care about and I came home. In there, I saw the ocean and some mountains and drove a stupid car. Also, I laughed harder than I had in years and I cried harder than I expected to.