Monday, April 18, 2011

Untitled 2/04/2011

My eyelids flutter softly while I'm grasping onto the last moments of my dream, your mouth on my...before I forge...I've forgotten. The sun creeps over my window and slowly crosses my face, streaking in stripes, through the slits of my blinds against my pink paint, like temporary wallpaper.

I catch you out of the corner of my eye, my first few breathes of the day sending you into a tizzy. Thin and malleable, a thread, or a fuzzy, I watch and discover as I inhale and you waver, exhale and you spin, joyfully, in tune with the rthymic heave of my chest. I don't like that your life is dependent on my every breath, so I must crush you. With a quick pinch, and flick, your movement's extinguished and the air is my own once more.

- I never posted this for some reason, but I just found it and kind of like it.


You visit me
in the morning
without permission.
Like a sleepwalker,
you'll never know
the promises you whisper,
the woman you hold,
the bed you frequent,
blocks south
of your own,
when you awaken.

Artists Support Euphemisms

I fantasize about you,
gold rectangles
and red dots.
Colorful shapes
have come to take
the place of
an imagined lover
during interludes
and at nighttime.
And I rather profess
my desire of having
you on my arm,
and not get you,
than be lying that
I never wanted you anyway.