It's an 18 hour drive for me to get home
Give me 18:05, I'll be at your door
I've been waiting so long to see your face
I've been waiting so long to put my hands around your waist
It's an 18 hour drive back to Omaha
And the whole way in my mind, I'll be singing our song
I've been waiting so long
I want to see you again.
I'm homesick for lovers that never love back.
I'll keep holding my breath until my lungs turn black.
I am Don Juan.
I am Don Quixote.
Leave me alone.
It's an 18 hour drive to get to your front porch
That's 18 full hours to plot my approach
I've got something to do, something to try
I'm so desperate I could cry
It's an 18 hour drive home from Michigan sleet
Maybe 17 if I don't stop to eat
You can go 3 days without water, 40 without food
But I just don't know how long I can go... without you.
I'm homesick for lovers that never love back.
I'll keep holding my breath until my lungs turn black.
I am Don Juan.
I am Don Quixote.
Leave me alone.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Saturday, December 8, 2007
untitled song a
I hear about your dates with other men
I hear you whispering to them
I hear your moans inside my head
And somehow that don't change the way
I look at you when we're alone
Like somehow I'm gon' make you all my own
Little woman I adore
Will you hurt my heart some more?
I'd better get myself out that front door
I'd better leave this town and never look back
But I
Wanna be your man
Now I've got nothing left to lose
But I've got a lot to say to you
I had a dream
In black and blue
And every scene
Was you.
Now on this earth, under the sun
I am a man on the run
But my heart is left
On your sleave
But if you want me to
I will leave
But I
Wanna be your man
I hear you whispering to them
I hear your moans inside my head
And somehow that don't change the way
I look at you when we're alone
Like somehow I'm gon' make you all my own
Little woman I adore
Will you hurt my heart some more?
I'd better get myself out that front door
I'd better leave this town and never look back
But I
Wanna be your man
Now I've got nothing left to lose
But I've got a lot to say to you
I had a dream
In black and blue
And every scene
Was you.
Now on this earth, under the sun
I am a man on the run
But my heart is left
On your sleave
But if you want me to
I will leave
But I
Wanna be your man
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
And I can't forget your smell with your scarf around my neck
I'm drowning my sorrows in Amber Bock and coffee
Apple Pie blisses that grandma made just for me
And snowy white joy rides through Minnesota streets.
White scarf that smells like you did when I left
And warm like that hug that we shared for a bit
That bit that could last all night in my head
All night regretting that we never kissed.
Maybe it's a bad idea, but my heart doesn't care
And I can't persuade it to alter one prayer.
They echo like blue moans in my ears
And I'll spend til morning wishing you were here.
Apple Pie blisses that grandma made just for me
And snowy white joy rides through Minnesota streets.
White scarf that smells like you did when I left
And warm like that hug that we shared for a bit
That bit that could last all night in my head
All night regretting that we never kissed.
Maybe it's a bad idea, but my heart doesn't care
And I can't persuade it to alter one prayer.
They echo like blue moans in my ears
And I'll spend til morning wishing you were here.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
the death of light
Is it cloudy or has the sun died?
Either way the darkness fills my wretched eyes.
So what if the sun had died? Big surprise.
It's just like everything else in life
It had its time
Now... decline
Until it's gone
Is there a constant?
I grab the railing, but it's not screwed in.
It just falls off the wall and comes with
And I'm falling.
It's like a drunken stumble
You're never balanced, never comfortable
Always trying to remain somewhere stable
And you always fail
Either way the darkness fills my wretched eyes.
So what if the sun had died? Big surprise.
It's just like everything else in life
It had its time
Now... decline
Until it's gone
Is there a constant?
I grab the railing, but it's not screwed in.
It just falls off the wall and comes with
And I'm falling.
It's like a drunken stumble
You're never balanced, never comfortable
Always trying to remain somewhere stable
And you always fail
Monday, October 29, 2007
Perception
When the sun's behind the cloud, does that make the sun dark?
"Perception is reality" is a half truth, just a start
For when my sky is clouded over, the black is what I see
But despite the blackness on the earth, the sun shines merriliy.
"Perception is reality" is a half truth, just a start
For when my sky is clouded over, the black is what I see
But despite the blackness on the earth, the sun shines merriliy.
I haven't written prose in awhile...
He rocked back and forth on his bed, knees to his head.
"I didn't want it to end like this."
"No one ever does."
He looked up for a second, and through the deep shadows concealing his eye sockets she could barely sense the glimmer of tears. He sniffed, and wiped his hands over his cheeks roughly. He looked away.
"Yeah, what do you know about anything?"
She looked down at her feet. The soles were black with soot.
"I know a little," she said quietly.
He stopped rocking.
The soot was thick on her shoes. She scraped her feet together, right over left, trying to clear some of it away. To make them clean again. She just found more layers of soot. When she looked up, he was staring at her, eyes barely visable in the deep shadows of his eye sockets, poking out just above his knees which he still clung to, tight against his chest. His face was dark, part from the shadows, and part from the smoke and debris. She tilted her head and looked curiously at him for a moment, and then sighed and looked back down at her shoes.
"I didn't want to die alone," he whispered.
"Don't ever say anything like that again!" she snapped at him, eyes suddenly full of fire. "Don't ever say anything so horrible. You're not alone. You've never been alone."
I feel alone, his eyes said to her.
"I feel alone."
She was quiet for a minute, looking back at her shoes.
"I know," she said, finally.
He buried his face in his knees again, gripping his legs hard against his small wiry chest as he gasped breath in through clenched teeth.
"Why do bad things happen to good people?" he asked finally, forcing the words out through aching lungs.
She sighed and put a hand up to her forehead, as if the slight pressure could help her think.
"It's the bittersweet. No one really wants a perfect life. It's too boring. If there's no risk, there's no adventure. If there's nothing to lose, there's nothing to gain."
"That's bullshit."
"Maybe..." and she was still for a moment. Then finally, "but it's the only way you can be free. Freedom and fairness don't seem to coexist very well in this world."
But he wasn't listening. His eyes were closed now.
"I didn't want it to end like this."
"No one ever does."
He looked up for a second, and through the deep shadows concealing his eye sockets she could barely sense the glimmer of tears. He sniffed, and wiped his hands over his cheeks roughly. He looked away.
"Yeah, what do you know about anything?"
She looked down at her feet. The soles were black with soot.
"I know a little," she said quietly.
He stopped rocking.
The soot was thick on her shoes. She scraped her feet together, right over left, trying to clear some of it away. To make them clean again. She just found more layers of soot. When she looked up, he was staring at her, eyes barely visable in the deep shadows of his eye sockets, poking out just above his knees which he still clung to, tight against his chest. His face was dark, part from the shadows, and part from the smoke and debris. She tilted her head and looked curiously at him for a moment, and then sighed and looked back down at her shoes.
"I didn't want to die alone," he whispered.
"Don't ever say anything like that again!" she snapped at him, eyes suddenly full of fire. "Don't ever say anything so horrible. You're not alone. You've never been alone."
I feel alone, his eyes said to her.
"I feel alone."
She was quiet for a minute, looking back at her shoes.
"I know," she said, finally.
He buried his face in his knees again, gripping his legs hard against his small wiry chest as he gasped breath in through clenched teeth.
"Why do bad things happen to good people?" he asked finally, forcing the words out through aching lungs.
She sighed and put a hand up to her forehead, as if the slight pressure could help her think.
"It's the bittersweet. No one really wants a perfect life. It's too boring. If there's no risk, there's no adventure. If there's nothing to lose, there's nothing to gain."
"That's bullshit."
"Maybe..." and she was still for a moment. Then finally, "but it's the only way you can be free. Freedom and fairness don't seem to coexist very well in this world."
But he wasn't listening. His eyes were closed now.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Tonight's introspection
Romanticized bullshit swirls in, out, and around me
Oozes out my ears
Fills my mouth
Gagging
Gagging.
I'm swimming in it.
Oozes out my ears
Fills my mouth
Gagging
Gagging.
I'm swimming in it.
Blue
I see the rain
Pitter pattering, splattering the windshield
Blue street light. Sad. Surreal.
Drops dripping down glassy night
Dark microcosm in my eye
Headlight in the distance turns to taillight long gone
Deep rumbling motor turns to whisper windsong
And we are alone
The radio lets off a lusty low moan
Midnight woman in husky baritone
You can feel the soul
Side of the road
Blue drops falling like soft blue snow
Like dark blue notes
Jazz played softly by the rain on the road
Blue and slow
Watery scat solo
I lean in to kiss you
So so slow
And just for a second it's all that I know
Your watery face, your blue tinted lips
And just for that second, an improvised kiss
Pitter pattering, splattering the windshield
Blue street light. Sad. Surreal.
Drops dripping down glassy night
Dark microcosm in my eye
Headlight in the distance turns to taillight long gone
Deep rumbling motor turns to whisper windsong
And we are alone
The radio lets off a lusty low moan
Midnight woman in husky baritone
You can feel the soul
Side of the road
Blue drops falling like soft blue snow
Like dark blue notes
Jazz played softly by the rain on the road
Blue and slow
Watery scat solo
I lean in to kiss you
So so slow
And just for a second it's all that I know
Your watery face, your blue tinted lips
And just for that second, an improvised kiss
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Insomnia and pretty eyes
I'm having trouble sleeping
Cause you're, cause you're, cause you're
In my mind, repeating.
It feels like bleeding
A nuclear bomb heating
Or maybe it feels like exactly what I'm needing
Anyways, hear the sheep bleating
As I'm counting
Oneing, twoing, threeing, threeing...
Cause you're, cause you're, cause you're
In my mind, repeating.
It feels like bleeding
A nuclear bomb heating
Or maybe it feels like exactly what I'm needing
Anyways, hear the sheep bleating
As I'm counting
Oneing, twoing, threeing, threeing...
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
My grumblings against shallow, foolish people called Christians.
Am I wrong in saying that the modern church does little to point non-believers to God?
Allow me to speak in stereotypes that all will understand.
The modern Christian has a holier-than-thou attitude. He clings desperately to rules of morality, as though these rules of morality will make him better than other people, and in doing so will secure his place in heaven. He disregards the fact that this directly disagrees with the Christian fundamentals of God's grace and mercy.
The modern Christian song is a sermon. I recently realized how hollow this is when I heard a wonderful song by a band called Cursive that spoke of how there is no God and we should all get used to it. Obviously, if someone disagrees with such a song, such blunt lyrics are not going to convert them. But a song like "Jesus Christ" by Brand New, where someone who I believe to be non-Christian (correct me if I'm wrong) is struggling with his own beliefs is much more human, much more real, much more honest. And a song like that causes all people to look inside themselves, no matter what they believe.
The modern Christian is generally Christian because their parents were, or because it makes them feel better about themselves, or because it looks good to the public. The modern Christian has no depth to their belief. In fact, the modern Christian has no depth to any belief. The modern Christian (as opposed, I've noticed, to the modern atheist) has little interest in studying philosophy or religion, because they believe to already know the truth and have little need for questioning it.
But interestingly, the modern Christian seems to have little interest in studying the bible as well. So the truth they believe they have is one they know very little of.
In essence, the modern Christian is shallow, hypocritical, and conceited. Which are three antoyms to the God they claim to emulate.
And the modern Christian doesn't care.
And I write this as a Christian. Where did we go so wrong?
Allow me to speak in stereotypes that all will understand.
The modern Christian has a holier-than-thou attitude. He clings desperately to rules of morality, as though these rules of morality will make him better than other people, and in doing so will secure his place in heaven. He disregards the fact that this directly disagrees with the Christian fundamentals of God's grace and mercy.
The modern Christian song is a sermon. I recently realized how hollow this is when I heard a wonderful song by a band called Cursive that spoke of how there is no God and we should all get used to it. Obviously, if someone disagrees with such a song, such blunt lyrics are not going to convert them. But a song like "Jesus Christ" by Brand New, where someone who I believe to be non-Christian (correct me if I'm wrong) is struggling with his own beliefs is much more human, much more real, much more honest. And a song like that causes all people to look inside themselves, no matter what they believe.
The modern Christian is generally Christian because their parents were, or because it makes them feel better about themselves, or because it looks good to the public. The modern Christian has no depth to their belief. In fact, the modern Christian has no depth to any belief. The modern Christian (as opposed, I've noticed, to the modern atheist) has little interest in studying philosophy or religion, because they believe to already know the truth and have little need for questioning it.
But interestingly, the modern Christian seems to have little interest in studying the bible as well. So the truth they believe they have is one they know very little of.
In essence, the modern Christian is shallow, hypocritical, and conceited. Which are three antoyms to the God they claim to emulate.
And the modern Christian doesn't care.
And I write this as a Christian. Where did we go so wrong?
Monday, October 22, 2007
I'm a wildebeast, beset on all sides
With wild wildebeast moans
I feel so alone
With all the grass and dusty dirt paths
Stumbling onward like drunks. calls. lasts.
Forest and vines and wicked moonlight
Wandering, foolishly lost at midnight
And something ain't right
God damn fight or flight
I'm juiced like a naked-chick shaped neon light
Flickering but bright
Turn me on like your red light
Leave me turned on for sin-filled nights
But leave me alone and I'll die
Somewhere out in the forest of lies
Eaten alive
I feel so alone
With all the grass and dusty dirt paths
Stumbling onward like drunks. calls. lasts.
Forest and vines and wicked moonlight
Wandering, foolishly lost at midnight
And something ain't right
God damn fight or flight
I'm juiced like a naked-chick shaped neon light
Flickering but bright
Turn me on like your red light
Leave me turned on for sin-filled nights
But leave me alone and I'll die
Somewhere out in the forest of lies
Eaten alive
70s metaphorical lust
A lava lamp
Blueish yellowish green
A tranquil scene
Serene
Up and down it goes
So... Slow...
Rises up and falls like snow.
It glows.
And somehow...
It is jealousy and hope.
That rise and fall and glow
Embodies all I long to know:
The rise and fall and glow
Of you
Blueish yellowish green
A tranquil scene
Serene
Up and down it goes
So... Slow...
Rises up and falls like snow.
It glows.
And somehow...
It is jealousy and hope.
That rise and fall and glow
Embodies all I long to know:
The rise and fall and glow
Of you
Philosophy question of the night
Imagine for a minute that for your whole life, from the very moment of your conception until the last breath escapes from your weathered old lungs, you lived in a dark cave. You never knew sunlight, you never knew moonlight, you never saw color. Everything was completely black.
Do you think that you could imagine the innumerable stars? The vast and deep ocean? A sky full of clouds that seem to go on forever, painted like cartoons by the very hand of God himself?
It's like trying to imagine a color that doesn't exist in our world. How could you do it?
So, in Philosophy class, in a bunch of carefully-worded steps, Descartes theorized that because we have an idea of God in our minds, then that would point towards the existence of such a God. Because imagining God without anything to give us the idea would be as ridiculous as imagining a color that no man has ever seen.
Can we as finite beings truly imagine some all-knowing, all-powerful, everlasting being? If we were to conjure God ourselves, wouldn't he be much more like us? Maybe more like the greek gods of old, swooping down to seduce ladies. Much more human.
I'm not saying I'm convinced on this argument. I'm just looking for feedback by people much more learned than I.
Do you think that you could imagine the innumerable stars? The vast and deep ocean? A sky full of clouds that seem to go on forever, painted like cartoons by the very hand of God himself?
It's like trying to imagine a color that doesn't exist in our world. How could you do it?
So, in Philosophy class, in a bunch of carefully-worded steps, Descartes theorized that because we have an idea of God in our minds, then that would point towards the existence of such a God. Because imagining God without anything to give us the idea would be as ridiculous as imagining a color that no man has ever seen.
Can we as finite beings truly imagine some all-knowing, all-powerful, everlasting being? If we were to conjure God ourselves, wouldn't he be much more like us? Maybe more like the greek gods of old, swooping down to seduce ladies. Much more human.
I'm not saying I'm convinced on this argument. I'm just looking for feedback by people much more learned than I.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Uh... sad.
La la la
My weary soul sighs out a song
It echoes up through dusty lungs
Climbs a ladder to my tongue
And pleads with it to please be sung.
La la la la la
My weary feet tap out a dance
Hips swivel sexy sexy pants
And for once I'm more than mortal man
I am Don Juan, lord of romance.
La la la la
I close my eyes
And sing this song, and what surprise
My voice sounds like a cat that died
And all my fantasies subside
At least I can say I tried.
My weary soul sighs out a song
It echoes up through dusty lungs
Climbs a ladder to my tongue
And pleads with it to please be sung.
La la la la la
My weary feet tap out a dance
Hips swivel sexy sexy pants
And for once I'm more than mortal man
I am Don Juan, lord of romance.
La la la la
I close my eyes
And sing this song, and what surprise
My voice sounds like a cat that died
And all my fantasies subside
At least I can say I tried.
Monday, October 15, 2007
The gazelle
Run free! Run free!
Forget about me
I don't want to be a tear on your cheek
I don't want a sigh to be uttered for me.
Run free! Run fast!
Don't ever look back
Look towards your future
A smile and a laugh
Don't let my dark face ever color yours black
Love would never bear to hold your heart back
Love would never bear to see your heart sad
Forget about me
I don't want to be a tear on your cheek
I don't want a sigh to be uttered for me.
Run free! Run fast!
Don't ever look back
Look towards your future
A smile and a laugh
Don't let my dark face ever color yours black
Love would never bear to hold your heart back
Love would never bear to see your heart sad
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Ebola of the tongue
The taste of love
Is the blackest taste on your wretched tongue
When it's a song that can never be sung
A blissful sweet melody never to be hummed
Is it better to know that taste
And be constantly haunted by its memory?
"It's better to have loved and lost..."
I may just disagree.
Is the blackest taste on your wretched tongue
When it's a song that can never be sung
A blissful sweet melody never to be hummed
Is it better to know that taste
And be constantly haunted by its memory?
"It's better to have loved and lost..."
I may just disagree.
What blissful dreams we have...
I lay
Languid
Floating
Face-down, then face up
In a pool of warm brown coffee
Soothing
The light from a disco ball
Shining shimmering on black walls
And from the black ceiling falls
Sleepy music that does nothing but calm
And then you are here
Black bathing suit, pony tail hair
I lay back and float like despair
Wait for your backstroke to beckon you near
Languid
Floating
Face-down, then face up
In a pool of warm brown coffee
Soothing
The light from a disco ball
Shining shimmering on black walls
And from the black ceiling falls
Sleepy music that does nothing but calm
And then you are here
Black bathing suit, pony tail hair
I lay back and float like despair
Wait for your backstroke to beckon you near
The bittersweet dream
Passion
Imprisioned
Heart beating inside my chest
Blood flows up my neck
Into my brain
And there breaks the chain
Bittersweet
I dream of you
Sweet sweet dreams
That will never come true
Imprisioned
Heart beating inside my chest
Blood flows up my neck
Into my brain
And there breaks the chain
Bittersweet
I dream of you
Sweet sweet dreams
That will never come true
Saturday, October 13, 2007
untitled dream poem 1
Sparks fly in my mind
Out of my ears and under my eyes
Oh how divine
But suddenly it quits
Like a candle stripped of its wick
And my eyes open in this dark world.
Memory, imagination blend like coffee
And what is produced is much more delicious
Part remembering what love feels like
Part pretending that it was between us
And somehow the world feels so cold
In contrast to my coffee soaked world.
Out of my ears and under my eyes
Oh how divine
But suddenly it quits
Like a candle stripped of its wick
And my eyes open in this dark world.
Memory, imagination blend like coffee
And what is produced is much more delicious
Part remembering what love feels like
Part pretending that it was between us
And somehow the world feels so cold
In contrast to my coffee soaked world.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Spike the punch
My bed smells too much like me
My lips taste too much like my mouth
My eyes know too well the mirror
While all the while I'd rather be staring you down
My mouth knows too well the frown
My heart knows too well the beat
It's been laying a somber march for years
What a tired old drummer he is
But oh what new music his ears yearn to hear
What sweet funky bassline he longs be near
This life's like a junior high dance
And I'm sick of dancing alone
I suggest we go spike the punch
Let's do something to break up the flow
Ripple and ripple and what do you know...
Maybe we've found what we were looking for.
A drunk make-out session behind the gym door.
My lips taste too much like my mouth
My eyes know too well the mirror
While all the while I'd rather be staring you down
My mouth knows too well the frown
My heart knows too well the beat
It's been laying a somber march for years
What a tired old drummer he is
But oh what new music his ears yearn to hear
What sweet funky bassline he longs be near
This life's like a junior high dance
And I'm sick of dancing alone
I suggest we go spike the punch
Let's do something to break up the flow
Ripple and ripple and what do you know...
Maybe we've found what we were looking for.
A drunk make-out session behind the gym door.
Friday, September 7, 2007
I don't understand a lot of things...
Leaves fall from trees
Icicles' suicidal leaps
And that brings us to you and me...
Drifting
Hourglass and gravity
Inevitability
It was what was meant to be
Destiny, so you've told me.
But I don't believe.
Why is the past meant to die?
And we're always left with teary eyes.
As what we've loved now breaks the ties
As though this new future looks so bright...
It's not right.
Years ago we made a bond
And now all you want is freedom?
Well, go, be free, I'll watch you run
It's not like we can change the sun
Or stop the moon from moving the ocean
What's here is here, what's done is done
Shall we mourn the past, or just move on?
Icicles' suicidal leaps
And that brings us to you and me...
Drifting
Hourglass and gravity
Inevitability
It was what was meant to be
Destiny, so you've told me.
But I don't believe.
Why is the past meant to die?
And we're always left with teary eyes.
As what we've loved now breaks the ties
As though this new future looks so bright...
It's not right.
Years ago we made a bond
And now all you want is freedom?
Well, go, be free, I'll watch you run
It's not like we can change the sun
Or stop the moon from moving the ocean
What's here is here, what's done is done
Shall we mourn the past, or just move on?
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Ha, my poetry sucks
Words that rhyme
Glued together to make a glorified whine
It feels more justified
Than crying.
Because of the words that rhyme.
Why?
Because it takes time?
Because it takes an effort of the mind?
Is music just a saxophone sighing?
Or is there more... underlying?
Am I even trying?
Glued together to make a glorified whine
It feels more justified
Than crying.
Because of the words that rhyme.
Why?
Because it takes time?
Because it takes an effort of the mind?
Is music just a saxophone sighing?
Or is there more... underlying?
Am I even trying?
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
My last day of work; she smiled at me
She makes me go on to dirty places
Her smile leaves me contagious
Open to all sorts of infectious agents
Antibiotics raging
... and unfazing.
And then the plague hits
In the shape of a sun dress
Filled out in all the right places
It's outrageous
Amazing
Maybe life-changing
Sets me on a downward spiral
Like a train derailing.
Vital signs failing
Limbs splayed and flailing
Until I find myself, kneeling and wailing
Until I find myself, kneeling and wailing
Her smile leaves me contagious
Open to all sorts of infectious agents
Antibiotics raging
... and unfazing.
And then the plague hits
In the shape of a sun dress
Filled out in all the right places
It's outrageous
Amazing
Maybe life-changing
Sets me on a downward spiral
Like a train derailing.
Vital signs failing
Limbs splayed and flailing
Until I find myself, kneeling and wailing
Until I find myself, kneeling and wailing
Monday, August 20, 2007
My emo
I hang on poetry like a crutch
All the things I'd do but don't have the guts
Hang like broken legs on the words
As if I could live my coward's life in a verse.
All the things I'd do but don't have the guts
Hang like broken legs on the words
As if I could live my coward's life in a verse.
Just say no
That was never my goal.
It's not like it really matters
But I thought you should know.
Every once in awhile we choose secrets to show
And I chose.
And I showed.
Because I thought it was something you might like to know
And now it's not like you simply said "no"
No, no, no, it's that you've said nothing at all.
If there was but the slightest bit of hope
You would have let it show
You could have at least said, "Hello,
I'm sorry, but no."
But no...
What blissful warmth that rejection would hold.
The silence is so cold.
And frankly, it's starting to get old.
It's not like it really matters
But I thought you should know.
Every once in awhile we choose secrets to show
And I chose.
And I showed.
Because I thought it was something you might like to know
And now it's not like you simply said "no"
No, no, no, it's that you've said nothing at all.
If there was but the slightest bit of hope
You would have let it show
You could have at least said, "Hello,
I'm sorry, but no."
But no...
What blissful warmth that rejection would hold.
The silence is so cold.
And frankly, it's starting to get old.
la tromperie de soi
Our legs all tangled like rope
Just how I like it
And my arm cascades down the cliff of your stomach
Like a human waterfall.
And I saw that it was good.
The bed is too hot, and we've kicked off the covers
And we're writing poems we can't show our mothers
My hand runs down your leg and I've written another
I smile in the dark as you barely shudder
Just how I like it.
Somewhere in the darkness I'm stuck on a verse
But kisses and eyelashes bring out the words
Heartbeats like hollowpoints bursting the dark
I hum sappy songs like you've stolen my heart.
Just how I like it
And my arm cascades down the cliff of your stomach
Like a human waterfall.
And I saw that it was good.
The bed is too hot, and we've kicked off the covers
And we're writing poems we can't show our mothers
My hand runs down your leg and I've written another
I smile in the dark as you barely shudder
Just how I like it.
Somewhere in the darkness I'm stuck on a verse
But kisses and eyelashes bring out the words
Heartbeats like hollowpoints bursting the dark
I hum sappy songs like you've stolen my heart.
de noche
A candle flutters by the bed
A sigh of smoke and breath of red
It flashes shadows on her breast
A silver screen of her, undressed
I feel her breath upon my tongue
And cheekbones rosy on my thumb
The candle sets much like the sun
And smoke whisps fly to greet the moon.
We send them off with stifled moans.
A sigh of smoke and breath of red
It flashes shadows on her breast
A silver screen of her, undressed
I feel her breath upon my tongue
And cheekbones rosy on my thumb
The candle sets much like the sun
And smoke whisps fly to greet the moon.
We send them off with stifled moans.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
The darkest night
Lips explode on mine
Slight taste of whiskey and cigarettes
But tonight, I sure don't mind
As her dark brown eyes look piercingly at mine
Her hands pull me in
Her back hard against the wall, standing
It's the sexiest version of sin
And I find myself leaning in...
Slight taste of whiskey and cigarettes
But tonight, I sure don't mind
As her dark brown eyes look piercingly at mine
Her hands pull me in
Her back hard against the wall, standing
It's the sexiest version of sin
And I find myself leaning in...
My mind; theatre
My mind; theatre
I smell her perfume againI take that second just to breathe in
Sensuality reviewed and relived
And for just that moment I'm no longer dead
Instead...
Visions explode in my head
My mind repaints where I've been
The vivid memories, the black and white skin
Relived
In a second-long movie clip
Technicolor fades in and out and in
And then goes dim
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