Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Let's drink our sorrows awake to sloppy sobriety and raping love, claustrophobic hugs, frigid burns and wrong turns.

Already Dead

And what if I'm already dead? The seasons changes and came to end. All I hear is branches under me leaves covering me because I came to end. So what if I'm already dead...

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Heart Attack

forget. the pain. in your chest. don't forget. the pain. in your chest. forget. the pain. in your chest. don't forget. the pain. in your chest of drawers. in your treasure chest. in your cage of ribs. in your cage of hearts. forget. the pain. in your chest. don't forget.


Her hair like strands of mud strewn hay waves effortless and crashing to her face, wind knotting and tangling golden highlights into dirtied darkened roots. She breathes in the unspace left from a heartless chest, gasping the air of cigarettes, blackening her crumbling soul to dust to dust.

The horses hear these melancholic sighs, heaving towards her on the highwayside, through the clay caught in their hoofs and the thorn ridden whimpering brush. An echo chimes, reverberating the dissatisfaction of their ordinary lives to never race against the winners instead to hide amongst the losers. To sit, to stand, to eat, to sleep, repeat repeat and to wait for lust lost lovers in dust in dust.

Her hand grazes the peachy softness of his heavy nostrils, feeling his burden palm to touch, alone and caught in the tarnished rot of her malignant green eyes twitching exhaustively and starring into a benign glimmering black as he stares back. The sun browns her china doll skin imperfect moles scattered grass-chewing dandelion seeds blowing wishes into the dusk, wishing for night to fall shadow upon their manes, with dust with dust.