"Wouldn't that be a horrible way to die, don't you think?"

I just thought that since Tansley has not been commenting on my blogs lately, I'd put up a picture of her boyfriend. So she can ogle him and find his picture here whenever she wants to see him.

"stop smiling"

bottom lip
top lip
hips legs
feet

hands
eyes
smiles

simple sensations
complex ideas

repeat
repeat
repeat

what an ugly thought sequence

I did not think
that those three words
would ever be ones I would want
not to be said

It felt like blasphemy
although I know better than to throw that term around

the constriction in my chest
told me secrets I didn't want to acknowledge

perhaps I am just
having delusions of persecution

and I know I dreamed I could not be kissed hard enough

but whenever I hear Regina Spektor say in her song Fidelity
"kissed me so sweet, and so soft"
I wish he was not so aggressive in his kisses

I built some speed bumps
he goes over them full speed
I throw road blocks
and he is temporarily subdued

but it won't last
he will go off-roading soon enough
I'll join him

cocoa

wet hair
clean fingernails
skin skin skin
tiptoe around
separate yourself from your posessions
sit down for a while
feel pure

strum a few strings
cross your legs
be silent
smile at your self
have some water
water the plants

be pleased with the sunlight
exist without alienation
let go of conscious consciousness

and forget for a while longer

Help a brotha out

A funny [not haha] poem that kind of rhymes but with bad rhythm and repeating rhymes, which doesn't make a LOT of sense. But I felt like blogging and it popped out.

When I meandered on tip toe

Threw gardens I didn’t know

Picking raspberries right from the bush

Getting out of there in a rush

The neighbors decided they

Didn’t like me, sent me away

But I loved the berries far too much

So I came back to pick in a rush

The problems they all got solved

When my mother smartly resolved

To plant a bush for only me

Right beside our apple tree

I could eat berries all the day

Until about the 11^th of may

When I will go to bars instead

Of picking raspberries behind the shed.

week ends

For a while, I turned into
ghosts and scarves and mirrors

a ghost of myself, who has forgotten my past
who slides in and out of rooms, uncaring:
scaring people, who don't believe in me
with a persisting, tugging yearn for flesh and bones
to be held, even though my synapses don't fire
and I can't even comprehend I am ethereal

I would fall inside of you before you could hold me

A scarf tied around a boys head
or a pretty girls waist
just tied up in knots
or sometimes flowing
blowing in the spring wind, up into atmosphere too thin to breathe
a ghost could dance with me up there

It's too bad, the only ghost I know, is me

Mirrors, plural
reflecting each other, cascades of repetition
into infinity
mirror, singular but never alone
you can stare into me, and always find something, always see a reflection of yourself
I'll smile when you smile, I'll frown when you frown
there is nothing more than that. I'm not going to lie to you
but I won't tell you anything you don't already know
I won't protect you from your imperfections
I will throw them back at you, it's simply what I do.
For your own good, don't try to break me.

You've had enough bad luck with me these days.

Be-bop. And Rocksteady.

I wonder what blind people think about the concept of reflections.