Poem
I have had this journal for a quite long time but never really cared to write anything in it, but a wind of change is coming in cyber space...
Starting up with a poem I wrote last night. It's kind of inspired by all lovely fanfic about House I read the last couple of weeks. But it isn't about House at all. It's my first in english in a very long time so if someone ever reads this bull, say what you think.
Here it is:
How is the rain on your fingers?
Wanna smash the faces, of all the beautiful boys - Tori Amos
They reminded her of her
Smash their knees against the cold ground
November isn’t her cup of tea
Now her teeth must be dry and dirty, teeth stay the same for the longest time, she knew that.
Maybe I can lick them back to life?
It where many things that made her think those thoughts
Apples in the morning light, the word might, all those lonely nights, but no more rhymes
How does your garden grow these days Mary? (hatehatehate questions like that) How is the rain on your fingers? Is it hard when it rains, does it make your time difficult Mary? yes…
The air these days has a constant smell of strong coffee, espresso tells me more about your soul than those theatre guys you keep nagging me about…yes theatre guys also remind you of her, right Mary?
Yeah, but they didn’t kiss like her, taste like her, we just tasted them together, that’s all.
Things she said were more important, she had written them all down so the brain of hers wouldn’t lost them
All walls are great if the roof doesn’t fall
Nighty Night, don’t let the bedbugs bite
Don’t get angry with yourself
How can anyone don’t miss that?
The last time she screamed at her, how could she scream at her? Now she can’t live with herself because of that.
You’ll be amazed of what you can live with
PEEL MY SKIN OF AND USE IT AS YOURS! I KNOW YOU NEED IT DARLING!
She didn’t hear you that time, the meds were taking her time
You might as well need me…
She wasn’t sick all of the time though, she did live a life like all others
We two loved the day after, the glasses after the party, still some warmth, still some laughter
Dirty knees and old songs in your head, her dress all torn but fuck it, really what does it matter, darling?
Nothing love! (share fascination for British costume dramas as well as beds)
The smell of her pens as she wrote
Her paintings, clowns that looked like early born babies
(you were always scared of them, and amazed by the same time)
The last night at the hospital
You almot cry when you think of it, almost, it’s the cold feet that makes you cry…
She made you climb up in her bed to hold her, tight Mary, or I’ll use my last strength to pull you close
She talked a lot those last fractions of time
Random things, you let her cause’ you wanted her voice in your head
There is something deeply poetic about apples…and brirds, birds who eat apples
Closer Mary
She pulled of her clothes and yours as well, her feet was really cold when she put them on your belly
I was naked when I came
I wanna be naked when I go
You whispered: I’m just a fan, love
And gone she was, gone she’ll always be
You wrote down the exact time she died and I picked up her tears from the rubber floor
I loved last episode of House by the way, House/Cameron, House/Wilson, House/Chase, House/Forman, Wilson/Cuddy (please let them share some saliva), Wilson/Cameron (wouldn't mind that here either)