just one wish

What is waiting for worth?
What is worth waiting for?
How many miles are we apart tonight? the few are to many and covered with rocks and snow.
we rise to the same sun and fall to the same moon.
I probably remember it nothing like you. I write my story, you write yours.
I love it that way. dirty and repetitive so we never forget.


Birthdays come and go. there is always a build up that lasts until just about the time I wake up and nothing feels any different. I'd expect a quarter under my pillow if i had lost a tooth but another year comes and goes and I'm better off not to look in the mirror and compare last from this and the one before that. another scar and few more lines. if not desired, deserved.
I wish that If I still don't know any better about keeping you in my heart, at least make me experienced.

I'm just trying to tell you I'll be 40 in a few days and i can't fucking believe it. I'll say the same thing next year, hopefully in some better way. I'll make some kind of mid life crisis wish like I hope for any young girl to still find me a little awesome. but then, those are just words.



I bought a Halloween coloring book yesterday and found i could still color between the lines. She once asked me " Is that where you write too?"
What i colored was a haunted house. It was beautiful and gloomy and I wish I could live there. Dusty books and creaky beds. It reminded me of your room. The bed squeaked every time we moved our hips. every time I put it deeper into you.
you were my favorite scary movie.

sleeping lessons

steady sun and steady rain and steady unevenness. thoughts and addictions.
something new not so new.
maybe the pumpkins will make me happy or the vampire girls
or vampire rings or candy rings.

rings of gold, rings of fire,
wear my ring?
wear me like a noose
rope burns
and the everlasting



photo: kristamas klousch
art: Miss Van

When it flows

My own words on break or on loan until winter or until I feel like it or until she shakes me again. Until something does. I'm fine if nothing does though, more fine than ever.

But, i say it knowing you're probably reading this and then thinking just how fucking fine id be if you asked me to come over. how fine I'd be even if we never really do meet. anyway, when have words really said anything about us? when are they better than staring or better than dreaming, better than waiting.

I like these conversations we have in between the lines and i guess you do too. maybe your bored. maybe you really like me. maybe you'll hear cello's or fireworks or ice cream truck chimes. maybe someday I'll shake you.

a failure at being friends not lovers

the kiss was my victory party. a ring and a cake. a birthday and a wish.
i sent the letter with a bolt of lightning - with thunder, with a hurricane.
puddles left in my driveway remind me of the day i spent over your house. the day the power went out and everything got quiet. we laid on your bed staring at the ceiling holding each others hand. we had just fucked. we had just lied. we had said we wouldn't but we would do it all over again.
then, there was just breathing. and instead of being still I
told you secrets.

little things - said.
left unsaid.
the months and years of words piling up and
left unread.

maybe this once had a heart beat? and
maybe it's not worth thinking about.
the summer swallows us up.
the goodbyes hurt like hell.

photo:Hakumansfriend -flickr

Words fucked art and the baby they made was ugly

a pretty flower. a pretty face. pretty trash and drawings on walls. pretty words. pretty lies.
and nothing. just staring. just sunshine. just rain. just fangs. just blood.
just everything.
just nothing.

there is something about the redundancy in this art.
in our words. in the photographs.
all the moons
and stars and stuttered sighs.
in that kiss that left you breathless.
our familiar tastes.

all of us- the same.
all us...... seeking attention.love.avoidance.points.money.memories.stories.
all us strangers
and lovers and fighters and mother fuckers.

all of us caught up in the illusion of thought.

that voice inside my head. asking. wondering.

is this beautiful?