(no subject)
handful of typewriter papers found under desk mostly to or about noodles
-
as an aside to nothing,
the sweat of my own breath and wonder
which foreign body i occupy today
**
monolith of my own hidden oceans,
in your wishing wells i have spent
the better part of my afternoon
searching for tears that i had spilled
this morning, when
after alighting upon a post nearby
you whistled to me and
i, drunken and reckless,
did but spit upon your gardens
**
she could bury her father on the highway, all cars and green and trees and just singing,
**
01.28.08
felt so bad about missing who i used to be i just had to go outside or something -- late night reconciled by planning to take photographs
**
that i would simple humbly in costumed youth enjoy the gaze of any such star so drunkenly open in the silky tangles of cigarette smoke. night. delicate shadow, your corner is to me comfort. your anonymity is the name of my heart.
our silence is only the telling eachother
of a secret too untamed for any tongue
-
morning-
**
when night is black or if feeling down thoughts turn to next time round and i know my feet will rest upon this ground but i could stand and do that anyhow, i dont see the point endless cycles repeat about a source of light
-
as an aside to nothing,
the sweat of my own breath and wonder
which foreign body i occupy today
**
monolith of my own hidden oceans,
in your wishing wells i have spent
the better part of my afternoon
searching for tears that i had spilled
this morning, when
after alighting upon a post nearby
you whistled to me and
i, drunken and reckless,
did but spit upon your gardens
**
she could bury her father on the highway, all cars and green and trees and just singing,
**
01.28.08
felt so bad about missing who i used to be i just had to go outside or something -- late night reconciled by planning to take photographs
**
that i would simple humbly in costumed youth enjoy the gaze of any such star so drunkenly open in the silky tangles of cigarette smoke. night. delicate shadow, your corner is to me comfort. your anonymity is the name of my heart.
our silence is only the telling eachother
of a secret too untamed for any tongue
-
morning-
**
when night is black or if feeling down thoughts turn to next time round and i know my feet will rest upon this ground but i could stand and do that anyhow, i dont see the point endless cycles repeat about a source of light