Flight! Of the Cupcake!

Shower

2011-02-27T19:42:00.001-05:00

Part my lips and blazing water flows in

    To clean out the space between my bones
    Sweep up the scraps of Sunday sin
    Dust off my brain and its great unknowns
    Mop the heavy smoking conflict from each lung
    Sanitize the silent grime left in your deepest cut
    Rinse the unhappy acid from my tongue
    Floss the indecisive space between my heart and gut
    Buff my kidneys to their youthful sober shine
    Purify every thought black with doubtful unease
    Scrape each stillborn concern from my spine

And Brush the bad habits from between my knees

The heat of this labor escapes in sharp exhale

Short breaths birthing shining music in major scale

The Fingertips of a Voice

2010-07-07T17:29:00.001-04:00

Thin sheen of water on a floor
Invisible until touched
The fingertips of a voice send ripples through
Memories puddled there
Growing to waves of contemplation
What was said back then
Felt in deepness of the gut
The wind of heavy breath adding to the whites
Of his eyes and the waves
Travel to the other coast
Crash against deeply seized hearts
Washing down throats with swallowed thoughts
Leaving salt on the tongue
From great bodies of pining
When the annual touch transpired
But as the waves and phone lines break
I tear away from the enthralling current
And bursting to the surface
My lungs refind the air
Of only lightly missing you from afar
So that I can keep afloat.

No Eclipse

2010-06-27T22:53:00.003-04:00

You are staring at the sun
Blindness in beauty and awe
Try to stop what has begun

Light that compares to no one
Can cause them but has no flaw
You are staring at the sun

Color exceeded by none
Wanting on but you withdraw
Try to stop what has begun

Danger not to be undone
Through my skin and eyes you saw
You are staring at the sun

The casing bursts from a gun
After the shot, hot and raw
Try to stop what has begun

Heat and glory outrun
Freeze in fear only to thaw
You are staring at the sun
Try to stop what has begun

What I Couldn't Write

2010-06-27T21:58:00.011-04:00

There is no poetic way to say that I broke your heart
Every metaphor falls short of that fear in your eyes
No hyperbole can exaggerate minutes spent thinking of you
Similes paint a lifeless picture of the trust I shattered
The game of alliteration cannot dance around this remorse
Absolutely no onomatopoeia could express the sound of sobbing, the arms wrapped so fiercely, the breathing of hair, the tears falling to clothes, the pull away, the closing door...
And nothing rhymes with I’m sorry.

Happy Mary

2010-04-12T10:52:00.010-04:00

Last time you got older, mom, I was making a mistake.
Funny how it's hard to imagine your face.
Your voice.
Do you still go by Mary Lou?
Are you still playing house?
What did you do this Easter?
You must have been excited to share a birthday with Jesus' rise from the dead.
Are you in Michigan?
Did you paint your nails? Cook potatoes? Eggs? Ham? Pancakes?
I did. I cooked pancakes.
Chocolate chip and in a hurry.
I'm sure church was lovely.
What did you wear?
I pretty much stayed home.
Everything was closed.

Parade of Want

2009-12-28T21:33:00.005-05:00

I want to stay poor forever.
I want to be selfless enough to love you all again.
I want to dream of people that meant something.
I want to spin a web of truths.
I want to escape so many forces of habit.
I want to fall back asleep in the bed of my childhood.
I want to force time to be inconsequential.
I want to believe in more than I do.
I want to trust that I will die happy.
I want to knock on a strangers' door and be invited in.
I want to breathe the air from twenty other countries.
I want to rebuild those who matter.
I want to imagine the father of my future children being an amazing man.
I want to be contented by the sound of wind.
I want to grow my mind like a weed.
I want to accept my inability to ever fully know.
I want to learn to be a duck and allow words to roll of my back.
I want to remember that my days are numbered.
I want to expect what I deserve.
I want to feel my laughter shake the tips of my toes.
I want to smile in the faces of adversaries.
I want to be confident in the life that I choose to lead.
I want to create good.
I want to create good.
I want to create good.

These Threads

2009-12-03T00:54:00.001-05:00

Over my head, into you.
Each particle of smoke twisted between these threads
Stands tall with wild hair, pensive eyes,
And a thin coating of hatred.
Each particle that I breathe in is you.
You in jeans and a yellow cardigan. You.
You hiding in the air of my clothes.
You beside my closing throat.
You coursing through my lungs
You and every. Single. Ounce. Of your complete and utter abandoning indifference towards me.
Me. Only sometimes. You.
You all tangled up in this shirt.
Me stretching every long sinew of my back to drape myself in these threads.
Me breathing impossibly deeply.
Me soaking myself in this smoke.
Me forgetting all of your bitterness.
Me. Falling into you.

Rabbit Foot

2009-11-22T11:27:00.002-05:00

I miss missing you, rabbit foot
Oh, dear, gasp, choke the faith I had in all that's disturbing
Your cool, soft smoothness in my hand
The luck I gleaned from actions so unnerving

I'd rather just pretend that we've moved on.
So I can't stand this slow dance.
Cheek to cheek I can't help but love
Which is why my habits are those of avoidance.

Speaking of which, you're just a habit. You fill the gaps my mind creates when it over thinks until all that surrounds is a masticated mush--ohhh, no--of spoiled secret feelings. Bitch?

I Could Be Something Done Poetic

2009-11-16T11:00:00.003-05:00

I just need time. But time isn't what I have or want.
I wish time could be inconsequential, like TV programming or waffles.
Then maybe--not to get heavy or anything--I could be something.
Things could turn out alright.

I stole a clock from my school. Their clocks were always on time.
I figured, heck, this might mean something, like the word defenestrate or the Bible.
Then maybe--not to get artsy or anything--I could be poetic.
Now it's on my wall and it just freaks me out.

I keep telling myself that I'm running out of it.
In my mind that sounds positive, like leaving Detroit or escaping a rip current.
But really--not to throw a pity party or anything--I could be done.
The clock could strike midnight on me.

And being finished has a certain deliciousness to it.

A Couples' Weekend

2009-11-11T01:33:00.004-05:00

"You don't really love me!"
Shrill female tones
Back to the wall, high pressure
His lungs feel every grove
In the plaster, dust
Wrists in hands
Fear in passion
Tongues in cheeks
Figuratively, then literally
Weird.
"You really do love me!"
Shrill female tones
Back to the wall, high pressure
His lungs feel every pulse
Breathing heavy
Loving heavy
Deep admiration, need
To stifle every
Mistake and such great heaviness,
To stifle every---
In mind.

Good Cells By Now

2009-11-11T00:32:00.002-05:00

From up high, you look so good
And I can hardly quench these needy cells
And what am I inspired by?
Other than what I'm doing now
Which is disabling the youth in my bones,
Adding to crow's feet and laugh lines
Representative of self-depreciating self-preservation--
Not to mention bending myself
Over backward into an abdominal paradox.

Aged Up To This Day

2009-11-04T23:57:00.005-05:00

She was really old. Like, insanely incredibly old. The type of old that makes you uncomfortable to be anywhere near it. Forget the smell. All old people smell. This woman, this woman--she was so close to death that you could see it on her. And feel it. Death vibrates.
Every hour on the hour she would reach out one of her hands towards me, usually the left, leaving the right to clutch her bedspread, painfully knobby joints terse and full of emotion. Her hands were sharply veined and transparent. Insect wings. I feigned a sneeze and jerked away every time.
I couldn't stay focused on her words. Over time her voice had worn around the edges like everything else in the room, leaving it jagged and unstable. This instability was impossible for my ears to tolerate. I tried to listen, I really did--I was so terrified of her that I felt that I owed her that courtesy. But I just couldn't. My mind would wander.
Naturally my first thoughts would lean towards my own aging, a topic that had long perplexed me. It creeped upwards without me, leaving me to rely on the calendar to track the years. I never felt aged, even now, far past my midlife crisis. Always just the same me. To this day I'm still not sure if that's a good thing.

On the Knees of Seven Words

2009-10-21T22:35:00.002-04:00

Bile bubbling up the slit of my throat
Beside seven words that I'm choking down:
You are the one that got away.
Knees against tainted linoleum
I do my best thinking while powerless,
With you I always have been.
They're pushing back up, cannot be consumed
Those seven words I can't accept
Rupture between my lips in black.
My tongue is being attacked by teeth
I do my best thinking while powerless,
With you I always have been.
Droplets of arrow-shaped longing,
Messier than blood, pus, spit
Coating every surface within legs' reach.
Eyes closed to the mess I've made,
I do my best thinking while powerless,
With you I always have been.

Above Alive

2009-10-08T17:45:00.003-04:00

A brushstroke, a fume, a painting, a price tag
Dictating numbers in ink too dry to quantify
The rush of breathlessness when the air grows thin
And the live energy that clouds can share with fingertips.
A note, a crescendo, a song, a label
Attempting to describe what is alive as stagnant
But in your D minor lives a flock of double-winged birds
Without stomachs, without eyesight, only flight.
A word, a sentiment, a novella, a synopsis
Overlooking the city of substance which lives between the lines
With glowing steel too tall to understand
And it close enough to the sun to set every inch on fire.
A bolt, a wire, a sculpture, a photograph
Losing the curvature, the depth of all that's intertwined
As growth takes the shape of the moon
Complete with the reflection of light set to stun...
No, a photograph could never capture you.

This is What I Remember

2009-09-14T13:13:00.004-04:00

I kept crumpled pieces of you hidden in the niches of my clothes.
Dreamed about all that you entailed.
Lapped up your exhaled air as if it could save me.

I used your body to fill the off-white rooms of a empty house.
Echoes absorbed by your shirt on the floor.
Silence banished by labored breathing.

I had yet to lose all of the saccharin innocence that kept me so thin.
Bones were still growing then.
Parents were still vaguely loved.

I had yet to lose all of the saccharin innocence that kept me so thin.

Too Cold, Too Bright, Too Humid

2009-09-05T16:34:00.005-04:00

Dear lovely, my sweetest apple blossom,
You are the pearl in every single clam,
Oh, my adorable little pocket possum,
You are the softness of every lamb,
You are spark of every fire,
Therefore our ties I must hereby sever.
You are the harmony of every choir,
And yes, that's right, dearest, we must never be together.
Not because I don't think you would make everything better,
After all, you make me happier than a rabbit in clover,
But because, quite frankly, I'd rather complain about the weather.
You take away my melancholy and it has to be over.
It's true, my princess, your presence eases my mind into zen.
So I never want to see you ever again.

Open-Ended [Air] Without Any Nerve [Endings]

2009-09-02T17:16:00.009-04:00

Fingertips!
Numb to the touch but they're feeling so much
Every nook of your skin to every cranny of mine
Don't stop!
You might be imaginary but you'll do just fine.

Darkness!
Drawing you near and discouraging all fear
Treebottoms coated in the most sexy still
Don't look!
Only feeling them is half the thrill.

Breathing!
Just as I like it, staggered and ever haphazard
You don't get stability while taking this chance
Don't worry!
I'll protect you from the sharp edge of romance.

Separate!
I'm just a toy and you're a big invisible boy
Plastic and secret do make a good pair
Don't fall!
Treat me like a Barbie doll and never care.

Notation!
Do, though, remember this September
As the month you succame but didn't succumb
Don't forget!
That you finally met a woman properly numb.

Two Ears, Four Paws, Etc.

2009-08-18T22:45:00.003-04:00

A mouse.
Wide-eyed and limp in spirit
Buried deep within the walls
Four paws scratching
Exactly when you need silence.
Buried deep within the left ventricle
Scratch thumping away.
A mouse.
Worn thin and soft spoken
Dancing within your secrets
Sneaking beneath the pantry door
Oh, the lack of light
Twenty teeth rotting
Chewing your artisan head hollow.
A mouse.
With the love of each of your goodbyes.
With the secrets and the stench of old kisses
With the shaking movement of your eyes
With the jarring shifting of near misses
With the confusion of the sweet disguise
With all of the the fluidity of the listless.

This Fire Wasn't Cute, and It Wasn't In Our Hearts

2009-08-10T14:53:00.005-04:00

You were my brilliant disaster
And you were my favorite disease
I do apologize, my sweet venom
For never making things easy

Could I Ask You a Huge Favor?

2009-08-03T18:51:00.005-04:00

Turn me off.
Sympathies like coins.
Plink plink in homeless cups.
But desired even less.

(After all, with these you can't purchase:
Liquor.
Wendy's.
Or portable electronics.)

Turn me off.
Compassion like health food.
Crunch crunch begrudgingly.
But desired even less.

(After all, from this you can't glean:
B-12
Lean protein
Or useful roughage.)

Turn me off.
Care like an old mattress.
Free! Free! Take it off my hands!
But desired even less.

(After all, with this you can't make:
A giant sled.
Padded walls.
Or sweet, sweet love.)

Turn me off.
Just turn me off.
Push, push, I need this so much or even it's only a little...
I desire it even less.

Aftertaste

2009-08-03T18:49:00.001-04:00

Late night time passing, flights considered
Memories slippery through jagged glass
Edges sawing away at subjective reality
Next thing I know you're right beside me.

Who asked, who told, you let go, no I did
Up in the air along with our feet
Remaining grounded proved too much
While fighting the five senses, particularly touch.

The movements you make charm me
Wrap my consciousness up in their paper-thin sweetness
Melting on my tongue I feel it coming on...
The aftertaste of someone gone.

Soda, Soda, Squidy Ink

2009-07-28T00:26:00.002-04:00

Soda, soda, fizzy drink!
Bubbles coursing through my veins
I bet I'll drink more than you think!

Compliments and bursting clouds of pink
Pouring bubblegum toothpaste when it rains
Soda, soda fizzy drink!

Open my eyes, never let me blink
Pupils dilated to stare down the success he feigns
I bet I'll drink more than you think!

Come on, harmonize, let's sing in sync
Let's also synchronize our brains
Say it with me: Soda, soda, fizzy drink!

Rorschach your Sunday best with squid ink
Don't ask me where I tossed the salty remains
I bet I'll drink more than you think!

And finally you ask, with a wink
"Will you let your hair get wet when it rains?"
(Smile, laugh, nonsense, reply)
Soda, soda, fizzy drink!
I bet I'll drink more than you think!

Least Favorite Lake

2009-07-21T00:13:00.001-04:00

After wading through the impossibilities here I am, on land.
That shoulder-high muck was thick and alive.
Its debris is still stuck to my skin and hand-me-down clothing.
Sharp edges have left lesions of varying size along each limb.
But my feet are safely on solid ground.
It's difficult to feel pain or to mourn the lost time.
When my feet are safely on solid ground.
Thank you for helping my feet find solid ground.

A Short List

2009-07-17T17:17:00.003-04:00

Smooth oval doorknobs your trying fingers will never reach for in the dead of night.
Foggy glass mirrors your telling eyes will never stare into in a fit of insecurity.
Cheap off-white carpeting your bare back will never lay down upon in exhaustion.
Two tall windows your hands will never struggle to open when it is too hot to think.
A grand footed bathtub your overworked mind will never fall asleep in accidentally.
Beautifully tiled fireplaces your childlike curiosity will never try to light.
Cool concrete steps your strong legs will never ascend with vigor.
Splintered wooden cabinets your warm temper will never slam in frustration.
Three comforting pillows your sweet head will never rest upon when we never whisper sweet secrets to each other while we never cuddle each other to sleep when we never imagine a future even brighter than the one we once did, but now we never dreamed of.

RIP

2009-07-14T21:32:00.004-04:00

Not to sound morbid or anything, but, doesn't this strike you as a dead smiley cookie? This is not merely a smiley cookie that has been dropped on the ground. It is dead. D-E-A-D.
:)

What Once Was

2009-07-14T21:09:00.002-04:00

Everywhere that I have walked has remembered me.
I have left an imprint, the size of a ladybug, the depth of a pond.
The color of the skin under your nails.
The slightest scent of moisture under your tongue.
Here and There call out to me, sometimes fondly.
And I respond courteously with memories and an appropriate moment of reverie.
At times my imprint acts as a earthbound black hole,
Drawing my widespread body towards it with mysterious force.
Absorbing the memories I offered and hiding them away
With its collection of weddings, hugs, dead pets, and stars.
Thus with mild panic I circle around and around it,
This is a game of ring around the memory. I like it. I'm laughing.
A high-pitched song in my ears, my mind quiets to a soft hum, ceases thought.
I can only feel now, live simply as an infant does,
Searching to relive what once was.

There's Nothing to See Here, Kids

2009-07-13T01:42:00.005-04:00

My brain feels out of place three feet above my head.
I'd like to rest but without it I'm afraid to go to bed.
Blood would have been nice, but all I've got are bruises.
The aftermath has the power to kill, but it only confuses.
I'm glad to be here, but with pain I'd like a show.
I want people to stare and be stunned by the afterglow.
I want them to panic, get on their knees and make the sign of the cross.
All I get, though, is this internal ache and brain loss.

Swift Grand Final Sick Easy This

2009-07-12T00:48:00.005-04:00

Hey.
You were there when my life was pick-pocketed of its charm.
Grabbing, silent, subversive, cowardly, ignorant.
It was swift.
You were there when my security was set on fire.
Hissing, third-degree, bursting, ashes, glow.
It was grand.
You were there when my innocence tripped over the edge.
Screeching, wind, falling, disperse, lost.
It was final.
You were there when my famous sweetness soured.
Disappoint, ugly, needing, vinegar, anger.
It was sick.
You were there when I wrote this behind my eyes.
Closing, defeat, fake, submission, hide.
It was easy.

You are here now.
Grabbing, third-degree, falling, vinegar, hide.
It is this.
Bye.

Unclean Fill

2009-07-10T12:11:00.005-04:00

My mouth is burning like every mistake I've ever made.
Dimples on my tongue bouncing, moving with the slick motion of my words.
I know my goal. They know it too.
I feel pressure on my lips. The sides of my gums.
Our comradery doesn't make this any less ugly.

The pressure turns to motion and the motion turns to moans.
And the moans work in unison to remove my clothes.

A mental lightswitch is bumped and a smile.
Fingertips perform tricks upon skin, gracelessly, perfectly.
The unison of a body once thought subversive is now ideal.
I feel pressure on the thin valves of my heart to give.
Rolling over, a new leaf, a new best friend like I've always wanted (psst...needed).

The pressure turns to motion and the motion turns to moans.
And the moans work in unison to remove my clothes.

Pause. One body to body. Our creator left a hole in this script.
Where do we go from here?
Two tongues lie resting, twenty fingers lie guessing. Six eyes.
I feel pressure to re-create what once was, to pour clean fill into this gap.
But my arms are too tired to pour, and what once was isn't right in front of me.

The pressure turns to motion and the motion turns to moans.
And the moans work in unison to remove all of my clothes.

Sijo II: The Longing Distance

2009-07-06T11:29:00.004-04:00

Distance Breaks, connection gained
      Speak face to face despite divide
Minds feel close for a moment
      Then the miles are remembered
I pause. My mind is churning. I can't. I shouldn't.
      I miss you.

Why Would I Imagine Such a Thing?

2009-07-05T15:38:00.003-04:00

Fifteen minutes ago we locked eyes three times. Neither of us smiled. I'm not sure what you're excuse is, but I'm not in a smiling mood. It is possible that you were just looking at me because I was looking at you. That may have made you uncomfortable and uncomfortable people don't smile. The thing is, though, that I smile when I'm uncomfortable, and aren't we two similar people? So why weren't you smiling?
I'm beginning to feel that you had a plot in mind because I saw your car. Just for the record, the locked eyes were piece of evidence #1, and this is #2. But, yeah, I saw your car leaving the parking lot. Low to the ground like it was sneaking, rusted around the edges like your shower (I imagine). It was also distinctly boxy and blue, which makes me want to call it the BB-Car, or BBar for short (that actually may cause confusion because I do not plan on going bar hopping with you). It is the distinctiveness of this vehicle that adds meat to piece of evidence #2.
Just now--very, very recently--I saw your car again. You found me. Did you follow me here? It's lucky for you that I'm sitting on this stoop, right out in the open. If I were a functioning adult I would be inside with the air conditioner and some stock quotes. But I'm not. And I doubt you are because your car is a total piece. It's okay, though, because if we were those people you would not be sneaking glances at me through your driver's side window.
In your defense, that might not have even been you. This could just be my imagination running circles around my dappled rationality. However, in your prosecution, why would I imagine such a thing?

Haiku II: Days

2009-07-04T19:13:00.001-04:00

Open morningtime
Sway around the middle time
Nighttime bolted closed.

The Pitfalls of Egoism, Especially in My Love

2009-07-04T19:08:00.004-04:00

An existence lived only for one
Must get lonely.
Panic must ensue.
Oh. Now I understand.
What happens to you every four days.

Sijo I: This Was Meant for June

2009-07-03T05:10:00.005-04:00

Growing close. That single day. The day of change. The living day.
I wake up.
Age tips over.
I am now grown.
The child is gone.
Give me trust. Responsibility. All because I'm
One
Day
Older.

Self-Titled

2009-07-03T02:05:00.002-04:00

"Do you think you could kiss me and pass me some of that youth?"
She asked, sprawled out on the bare floor, almost naked, almost asleep.
"I might have some to spare,"
He replied, thousands of miles away, holding her hand.

Haiku I: I Think I Need Something

2009-07-02T23:33:00.004-04:00

Cool, soft, small tired hands
That jaws envelop wholly
Much to my delight

Bread's Scent

2009-07-02T23:27:00.007-04:00

The smell of bread--bread's scent, baking, warm--is in a hurry.
It, he, it is checking his pocket watch that it still carries. To be old fashioned. Expensive.
He knows the he's not going to be late.
He's always on time (Punctual would be a better term).
He really cannot be wrong while he's climbing, sneaking into the memory.
Because he's only a smell.
(It.)

What I've Heard

2009-07-02T23:19:00.001-04:00

"Why is life so tough?"
She asked, standing three feet high.

Jollies

2009-07-02T23:14:00.002-04:00

Smoke from an unnamed source.
Slithers down the street with intentions.
Snuggles up to the parking meter.
Slides into the coin slot.
Squirms and writhes within.
Surely the best change this meter's ever seen.

Bartering

2009-07-02T23:07:00.003-04:00

Stranger, I would even watch baseball with you.
I don't need your face.
Only your presence (And even that you can offer half-heartedly).
But with you I'll share. Go ahead.
You can have my face, my body.
Yeah, I know that this is an uneven trade.
But that injustice is justified
By the fact that I am broken.

His Mailbox

2009-07-02T22:10:00.003-04:00

I found his name written in big, overplayed letters,
Eating up the mailbox that was supposed to be ours.

He never mentioned it.

There wasn't even room for a V,
Let alone an I or a C.

He never intended to share this place.

Now he's shouting that I have to leave,
'But we could still get married!' He touts as some sort of defense.

How many mailboxes would he take if he knew that I were trapped?

But, But, But I Did

2009-06-28T15:27:00.004-04:00

But I did fall again.
Last night.
For a few hours my heart felt warm.
It felt safe.

But I make a mistake.
Nothing in this hole will ever be worth this. (Or is it anything?)
These newspaper clippings are cutting my fingers.
This dirt stinks.

But why do I deserve this?
I tripped!
This was an occurrence of faulty machinery.
I should probably go to see a specialist.

But I really should blame myself.
I didn't listen.
I'll never find those things in this hole.
It's too echoey to be quiet, a hole is not a home, you can't help crying in this terror, I have no leverage to break this right arm, this is not a neighborhood, I will not be able to find a comrade, especially not one that has glue because there are no Rite-Aids down here, and certainly no Jo-Ann Fabrics.

And I Don't Want to Fall Again

2009-06-28T14:17:00.005-04:00

I tripped.
And fell. This hole was seventeen thousand miles deep.
And narrow.
And lined with clippings of magazine 'DON'Ts.'

I kept falling.
And didn't hit the bottom.
And haven't seen any light.
And just hit the gravel now.

I was moving so fast that upon impact that I disintegrated.
And now my cells have been scattered across countries that I've never been to.
And I doubt that I'll ever go there to retrieve them.
And it may hurt. But my systems aren't connected anymore.

I want out.
And I want to reform.
And I don't want to fall again. Not like this.
And I want to stay quiet and regulated and find a home and learn how to not cry and maybe break an arm bone so I can know how it feels and find someplace that likes broken things and meet some one who has some glue.

Five + Five = Ten

2009-06-28T12:03:00.006-04:00

I paid ten dollars to enter...

(I paid ten dollars to recall.
I paid forgetting.

I paid ten dollars to be ignited.
I paid quiet.

I paid ten dollars to be mocked.
I paid clarity, but I didn't mind because that waiter was a stoner.

I paid ten dollars to let the sun rise.
I paid thought.

I paid ten dollars and got nothing in my hands or in my lungs.
But my head filled up and tipped over.

I paid ten dollars for an internal conflict.
I paid peace.)

...I paid excitement to leave.

Eat Your Action

2009-06-27T01:53:00.003-04:00

Words are the Wonder Bread of human interaction.
Easy to digest.
Not much to 'em.
Processed to spineless perfection.

You may absorb a few calories of information from them.
But no vitamin Reliable.
No vitamin Meaningful.
No vitamin Truth.

Breaker

2009-06-25T11:33:00.002-04:00

Single yellow jawbreaker,
I guess it's pretty silly that I'm writing about you.

We All Speak

2009-06-23T22:44:00.001-04:00

We all know to be quiet in the mornings,
To be quiet at night.
It’s a common human decency, a courtesy.
So we all speak during the day
And leave the darkness out.

We all know not to mention dead mothers,
To walk on eggshells about drugged brothers.
It’s a common human decency, a courtesy.
So we all speak carefully
And leave the darkness out.

We all know to open our minds completely
To accept things we once thought evil. And still do.
It’s a common decency, a courtesy.
So we all speak with pleasant silence.
And leave the darkness out.

We all know to never be ourselves,
To fake a more palpable version 2.0.
It’s a common decency, a courtesy.
So we all speak in false voices
And leave the darkness out.

Parade of I

2009-06-07T10:14:00.009-04:00

I like it when I smell like you,
Imbued.
I cuddle close and let the scent accrue.

It's not the smell of your shampoo.
It is...just you. Silent, dirty, and nude.
I like it when I smell like you.

I watch your scent ball into dew,
Increase in strength, devour this mind, intrude.
I cuddle close and let the scent accrue.

In withdrawal my body's all askew.
Itching for a whiff I'm too broken to be viewed.
I like it when I smell like you.

In time you appear as if on cue,
Immediately ending the strife which has brewed.
I cuddle close and let the scent accrue.

I'll soak my skin with it, through and through.
In this motion I feel my rapture exude.
I like it when I smell like you.
I cuddle close and let the scent accrue.

Flow

2009-06-05T21:02:00.012-04:00

Today Danny Microwave and I are celebrating two months together. It's funny, because two months is nothing. But we pumped experience into that 'nothing' like no other. We've been through at least a year of drama, if not more. I'm proud of us for getting through, and I'm proud of Danny just for being who he is. I totally love him! So I wrote him this song. This is just what poured out of my head (and my heart), so it's super rough. But here it goes. ^_^

Today is the first day of the rest of my life
And I really think you should be here
I plan on living this the very best I can
And all I want is to have you near

Two months ago we met
And I know I'll never forget
Resting my head on your shoulder
Now your head rests on mine
I can feel pulses through your spine
That tell me that you know
You should be here

Today is the first day of the rest of my life
And I really think you should be here
Push away the mistakes of a work in progress
And please just believe that I'm sincere

Your arms are the very best vacation spot I know
It's free to be surrounded by the comfort of flow
I can watch the world around me go and go and go
While resting on the cushion of worries cast away
And the smiles that get you through each and every day
That tell me that you know
You should be here

Because...
Today is the first day of the rest of my life
And I really know you should be here
I want to hold your hands and kiss your cheeks and pet your warm summer skin
And tell you that our future skies are so clear

....I just really, really want you to know
That you should be here

I Just Bought a Couch

2009-06-04T21:32:00.003-04:00

I just bought a couch.
Yeah,
A couch.
A loveseat, really, I guess that's what they're called.
It's upholstered like royalty but somebody else didn't want it.
So I just bought a couch.
I keep imagining all of the times that I'll sit on its edge.
Its very tippy edge.
I'll enjoy it there.
But occasionally I'll sink into its secondhand goodness.
Enjoy that upholstery,
The fluff inside of it.
I'll enjoy it completely and wholly,
For a whole forty-five dollars.
Wow,
I just bought a couch!

Never Never Never Leave Kennywood

2009-06-04T18:37:00.006-04:00

Remember Kennywood?
Lick your lips. Drool for those famous potatoes,
That childhood smell of grease,
Flavored fat dripping down your chin and coating little fingers all cute n' shiny
Just wipe it off on your summer shorts,
it's Kennywood!

Remember Kennywood?
Pay a dollar and hunt that fish's tiny metal ring (two chances)
You might win a giant stuffed Care Bear!
With a rainbow or a cupcake on its tummy!
Or just a Chinese piece of plastic. It doesn't matter,
it's Kennywood!

Remember Kennywood?
Whipping your bones in the best of ways
Fear of that steel melts into a puddle of giddy
The puddle of giddy flows up to your brain,
Permeates the membrane. You're high (so high!) because
it's Kennywood!

Remember Kennywood?
The excitement that built as you traversed the tunnel
Spills out of you when you head back home again
Leaving a trail of fluffy exhaustion on the concrete ceiling (along with the multicolored chewed gum)
I'm fighting my legs, move backwards! Towards the Thunderbolt, towards the funnel cake, towards the smiles that will never be lost. Never never never, I never want to leave! Come on, take me back, come on,
it's Kennywood!

Friday

2009-05-29T16:23:00.003-04:00

I just found this on my computer. It's a song I wrote a little while back.

Tomorrow will be Friday
Leading up to Monday
Following a Sunday
I wish they’d make a new day
So I didn’t have to know what’s next

Living in hopes of a future goal
It’s not quite real but at least it’s yours
Living in hopes of something happening
Something new, something old to forget

Tomorrow will be Friday
Leading up to Monday
Following a Sunday
I wish they’d make a new day
So I didn’t have to know what’s next

Pushing time away, under the mattress
If you can’t see it maybe it moves faster
Pushing the past away, that has timed out
No reason to look back when it was a bitch.

Tomorrow will be Friday
Leading up to Monday
Following a Sunday
I wish they’d make a new day
So I didn’t have to know what’s next

Is that what you’ve got to offer?
Repeating days without novelty
Mother Nature, I’d like to stop her
Because sometimes time just kills me
We’re so adult, making plans far in advance
Arranging our lives to the beat of the economy
We’re so serious. We walk, never dance.
Tonight let’s kick off our work boots and be free

Diamond Saw

2009-05-18T16:42:00.009-04:00

I'm looking up.
Bullets of light points
Glossed the eyes right over
Frozen in pressure
Mud and death turning to diamonds
Sharp-sawing the fat
(The anxiety, the calorie-counting, the 'I miss you,' the dirty look, the bad dogs, the wet paper, the changed locks, the side effects, that smell)
While you lie unaware
Atop me, pushing down
Pressure.
Diamonds.

Tha Rock Look Like a Pear

2009-05-17T01:39:00.004-04:00

I took this in a garden in Michigan. It's one of my best prints.

Late Night Lovers

2009-05-17T01:19:00.004-04:00

"I'm basically dating a German Shepard.
She said 'Das stimmt!' and then licked my face."
- Danny Microwave

Stop Moving Truck

2009-05-17T00:51:00.005-04:00

I was trying to do stop motion here up on the hill in Highland Park. It worked out, in a weird way. The trees are like a dream.

East Liberparking

2009-05-17T00:34:00.003-04:00

This was the first photo of the first roll of the film I ever shot with a real camera (aka a non-Holga camera).
It's my favorite.

Crooked Neighbors

2009-05-17T00:12:00.006-04:00

In a land far away from your cushy home is Mount Oliver, the bastard stepchild of Mount Washington. People who live in Mount Oliver claim to live on Mount Washington and people who live on Mount Washington wouldn't venture to Mount Oliver if their lives depended on it.
This was taken atop Mount Oliver in one of their menagerie old timey graveyards. You can just barely see Pittsburgh off in the distance.
It's a pretty good view for a bunch of dead people. ;)

Blicken Sie auf!

2009-05-17T00:04:00.006-04:00

Look up! This is the ceiling of the ballroom in the Pitt union building. That line of lights made the negatives really interesting. Off of this one image I was able to get a wide variety of prints. By tweaking with exposure times and different types of print paper I was able to change the aesthetic of those lights completely.
When my photography teacher, the infamous and fantastic Anthony "Uncle Antwon" Goodwin, saw this picture he said:
"No. No, no, no. You can't be taking photos like that. No. NO! Not until after art school. Go kill yourself."
:)

Ticking Tocking

2009-05-16T23:42:00.009-04:00

I took this photo in the Bed, Bath, and Beyond in the Waterfront. I was walking around snapping pictures of things that didn't need their pictures taken...shopping carts, rocks, slushie machines. This photo still turned out to be one of my favorites of the day. I like how it's a bit of a mind trip.

I wanna make you feel...

2009-05-16T16:07:00.004-04:00

I wanna make you feel...
Better.
What might make you feel?
Better?

Would you like an ice cream?
Or perhaps my skin next to yours?
My breath on your ear?
My leg curling roundwards?

Your heart pounding upwards.
Your mind traveling downwards.
Hips pressed, clothes messed.
Teasing fingers playing...

With nuts.
Vanilla. Okay.
In a cup.
No whipped cream.