It's raining outside. It's raining inside, too. The fine droplets collect about my heart, like frills to shimmy with; but they'll never reach my tear ducts. Still, they bind me. They are too heavy and I'm too out of touch to dance. A hint of doubt and deceit, and I'm derailed. I crave to be omniscient. But that will never happen, and so I'm lost, ( Read more... )

i feel silly making this list, but i want to remember the details, or show myself what i've been missing--maybe even what i deserve? eh, that's too cliché. no... i want to challenge myself to acknowledge, appreciate, and reciprocate a good thing; then to maintain it as it changes and hopefully, possibly, grows (insert necessary disclaimers). and i ( Read more... )

last night the boyfriend said "i love you," but it was in relation to something funny i did or said, and he was drunk. but the words still stuck in my head, and i don't remember what exactly caused him to say that. he said it with such joy, ease, and whimsy and it didn't sound serious or dramatic at all.

it was a wild night. my inhibitions flew away ( Read more... )

sometimes i wish i could throw a question out to the universe and have an answer come back, simple to follow. like a magic 8 ball god. not something obscure or ambiguous, with broad application to many problems, like the I Ching; but specific and detailed, even if whimsical. maybe a Terry Pratchett type universe, where all is play in the end, and ( Read more... )

the moon is full, the river high, and i feel both wild and confined. am i just a figure for keeps, something to crowd the other things on your mantel and never to look at again? or are we sidestepping like crabs locked in battle, not able to go anywhere but deeper into the water ( Read more... )

i'm scaring myself right now.  i'm in this mean self-destructive place where i'd rather sleep than breathe.  i hate the cold; i feel invaded by it.  i can only get away from it under the covers.  i'm cursing my own love by imagining and waiting for a phone call.  it doesn't come, and i can only escape that fact with sleep ( Read more... )

a response to a letter ( Read more... )

rain is back, pounding on the door: "take me back, crescent city, you know you're all dried up without me."

she lets him in and says, "i'm the one who makes you wet, baby."

i cannot shake the feeling that there is a wound where he, she, and he touched me, and did not return.

my body will not forget each scent, slide, and impact.

ah, the rain, a faithful lover:
visits frequently and with ardor, sings me to sleep, kisses me awake in the morning.
a musician, he plays the drainpipe outside like an organ, the steel notes feeding the rhythm of my pulse.
his tears, all impulse, need, his nature:
his manner of gift.
if i receive it, he covers me, and i am his.