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stoiccity

(no subject) [May. 24th, 2012|08:15 pm]
Resignation

I've defeated myself, and there are no winners here
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Bunnies got no time or rhyme [May. 2nd, 2012|07:43 pm]
I started weaving you a bunny
She'd prance & dance in glee
To the sticky tune of your plywood uke
& then curl up on your knee

I weaved it outta candy
Light as air and sickly sweet
The ants came round & ate her out
From her eyeballs to her feet

Yea, so...
I wanna do just two more lines
But it feels like a waste of time
So yes, yes, the bunny's dead
Just fuck off, get out of my bed
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(no subject) [Apr. 27th, 2012|04:12 am]
Nostos
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(no subject) [Apr. 16th, 2012|05:12 am]
So rest your head-
you’re all mine.
And I stay awake,
I won’t go home.
Let’s go on a holiday.
To burn this town
She’s my Babylon.

So rest your heart-
you’re all mine.
Because if you walk away,
I fall on down.
And bleed, red as blood
Red as when.
She’s my Babylon.
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(no subject) [Nov. 18th, 2011|01:17 am]
Cogito Ergo Sum

Ironic, that I've had to resort to a cessation of mental activity in order to live, because if you live in the past then by default you're not living in the current and by postulation at the present you are not living id est you are dead

I live! I breathe!
Now I need to be.
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(no subject) [Aug. 17th, 2011|01:34 am]
The mind of the thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, with everything priced above its proper value. /Oscar Wilde
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Synesthesia [Jun. 17th, 2011|03:24 am]
I've got the color of you in my veins
It's blue

I've known rivers: / I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow / of human blood in human veins.

I cradle you in a vessel, winding down the canals of hell on my blood river. I never knew that brimstone burns blue. I can see the sound of fire. It crackles and thunders like applause.

The blue flame rises to meet Icarus and his wings of wax. He should have listened to his father. It's not safe anywhere; not in the piercing sun, not in the stinking depths of Satan's guts. They will melt now, as they did up in those blue skies, as God watched. It was a beautiful cloudless day, and He had a good view. Always listen to the Father - that's the lesson - even though Mother knows best.

Oh, Precarious Icarus, he falls, screaming blue murder. The lake of fire roars its applause in return. The crows descend after him, always thirsty.

My coffee is cold, but not as cold as your eyes across the table. I want to warm you up, drink you down. I say nothing, you had somewhere to be. I pick up the tab, and they bring the check. The pen is blue.

A lone crow pecks at the crumbs you left behind. They can smell tragedy. One more swoops down, and then another.

A flock of crows is called a murder, and tragedy tastes like biscuits. What's the lesson, Father?
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The Purging [Apr. 24th, 2011|12:04 am]
They were born of the sleeping mind, these dreams - the dwelling place of the unbearables, the unspoken.

Crafted from despair, they feed on more. Cannibals, born to devour themselves.

This semi-conscious place of semi-conscience, it cooks these dreams up from the stinking stew of memories, removes the tendons, ties up the heartstrings, roasts them till the edges char and turn bitter, pound them into the moulds of what-if, and serves them cold.

The first course - Indulgence; Second - Manifestation; Third - Acute Purging

The price is always too steep, they don't serve dessert, and tomorrow night, I'm back here again.
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(no subject) [Mar. 23rd, 2011|04:07 am]
Sitting at that weird solo bench with my book, wafts of delicious gray chicken meat (heaven must smell like KFC) bringing out the roaches to their dinnertime playground, i.e., the immediate floor area around my too-small feet, waiting for you to run down once again, late, in a scraggly blue PE shirt, it seemed like I didn't need anything more. & it was true, we didn't need more. We just can't help believing we do.


It's obvious now (I say now because tomorrow I might convince myself otherwise), it's not how many things we manage to do in this tiny life. It's how we've responded. You've only lived through something if you let it digest, savour it in your gut, absorb some its essence. If not, it was just another thing that happened to you, like being caught in a rain storm or missing the bus. But is it enough to have lived in your thoughts? & do you lead your thoughts, or do you let them take the reins?


Either way, mine has led me to decide that this tiny life will & shall include me sitting on a plastic raft in Jurassic Park The Ride. Universal Studios Hollywood! Where real life is the ultimate fantasy!
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The Big Metaphysical Conundrum [Mar. 9th, 2011|11:28 pm]
it took me all this time & everywhere, to realise i am only ever where im not





SIGH i bore myself
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