thanksgiving ode to your foodI hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving- I hope your family showers you with food; salty potato chips and tart dips, warm steaming turkey, breaded stuffing, and your choice of pie fresh from the oven. Maybe you'll enjoy sweet marshmallows and oddly shaped jellos, strong sisters and soft spoken brothers. And at night when you sleep, may your spine curl tenderly like a pill bug falling into his grassblade sheets, may your skin glow around loosening eyelids and hair ruffled by a gentle, vigorousthanksgiving ode to your food
storm.
we wentwe decided to go north west starved of flagrant pine branches longing towe went
smother our faces in burrs and sun colors duels with our natural instincts will allow us to crawl on all fours and order a quarter pounder at once-since we
can't tear each other apart we'll go for the meat so america, say goodbye to us-your poached hills and purple skies harden like grape juice under the treads of steaming tires not long clasped to the highway america say goodbye and pray we don't land in the ocean -
let me give youred leaves washed in cold water earth flying in radiantlet me give you
feathers made of dying
us two eggsus two eggs beaten to a pulp, weus two eggs
shoveled flour into the bowl plop plop placing particles of
pasty dust in the air and i thought 'this is fun'
with the cold tang of milk and butter
tap dancing on our tongues
i noticed your quivering, blue veined, river-like hands and
considered how alive the wrists of the dying
can be
insomniacit is three a.m. and far past hope of sleep she lays on the cotton cloths but does not succumb to relaxed breathing and heavy eyelids and normally, her world is vibrant at this hour the black is full of prisms and twinklings flitting in between wonderful whispers but tonight, the dark holds no depth for her it is instead a flat grey panel soundless and shimmerless saturating her dreamless thoughts and riddling theminsomniac
with hopelessness.
antagonist.-antagonist.
there is no moon tonight- the ocean howls,
i am lost in it, my words all around me the way a hurricane splits apart a town and leaves it glittering and quiet, voices having traced where humans once stood
there is no moon- planets crash into eachother and die in a fit of bloody fireworks.
the world is ending because i knew you would leave me, taking your heart off like a coat and wearing your lies like jewelry
what was once summer is now a thread of birds melting in between the clavicles of trees, soft white finch li
grenades.-grenades.
the smell of death is that of pear blossoms twisting into knots, sunset dripping onto morning in organ coloured slats, you doing something i would never expect you to do
i always feel like i am watching myself from outside a crystal ball, growing paper thin to show you that yes, i have a heart
it beats like a sea colliding within a shell, brightly coloured sparks twitching inside its skull, begging to be let out.
death is not something you can avoid, it traces the lip of a venus fly trap before deciding to fall, stains eve
if you're thinking
Stumped
--
"Put the world on notice I'm ruined and I know it.We threw the game from the start. I'm desperate and devoted the secret no one told us. My songs know what you did in the dark."
--
BT.
"The truth knocks on the door and you say, "Go away, I'm looking for the truth," and so it goes away."
— Robert M. Pirsig
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle maintanance
--
BT.
"The truth knocks on the door and you say, "Go away, I'm looking for the truth," and so it goes away."
— Robert M. Pirsig
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle maintanance
You're writing is MAGIC. It is made of WIN.
Just so you know. C:
i'll dance a little jig now
really, you made my morning less horrible
Anything for one of my oldest friends~
i'm glad you've been my friend for so long
will try to call you next week
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