old words.

i desire strength like i desire water-

i am attracted to honesty like i am to words.

i think beauty is a posthumous object and the true sight to herald is a lover's wound or a friend's tears.
the only sad thing in this world is the potential people lose when thinking otherwise.

1996.

the universe is a standstill
on the window sill
or the bedpost
where love had been made
with images
hovering over the intimate scene
a bedroom smell
breaths in your hair

locks of hair
always on the ground

always wanting to be around.

angel baby

the
words
fall
right through my hair.

there's hardly any color left.























p.s. happy birthday Jeff Buckley. Marry me already.

blurs

i just love

staring out at the ceiling

some holy penchant that could easily be

your typical metaphor

dare i say that word

unhappiness

is a long drawn out feeling

it lingers in subtle doses

i've had some subtle doses

and i've been intimate with the share

some say that things develop over time

and i'm starting to understand the concept of collapse

never mind this writing

it's all dreary shit

and no one reads it

and i like that

all of this can be thrown onto the internet

and yet it is still obscure.

october.

tell you

give me some time

nothing as beautiful as nothing at all

(i) tell you

give me some time

nothing as beautiful as startin' the war

tell you

give me some time

nothing as beautiful as nothing at all

you are

and

you were.

rows

biting my teeth

in rows

counting them with my tongue

just to keep the peace.

it's clear that things are not working

(at this time)

let us sit back and stare at

odd examples

of just how long

human beings can draw things out.

(thisofcourseisayonlywheni'mfeelingworthwhile--------------inamomentiwillbempty)

Fall

are we both oblivious here?