he did not recieve the text. good. so we chat. friends, not lovers, that we are: i question him of things and he shares his good news with me. at midnight. not that i didn’t ask him to, but he doesn’t bother informing you. funny?
relieved, i don’t think of the saved blushes and the heat does not rise to my cheeks: it doesn’t need to.
a sigh escapes like a fly through the open window, its wings no longer beating against the cold clear pane of glass.
phone on, i wait to hear a beep. from you or him, it hardly seems to matter.
i sleep lightly as of late, or as of early. since our trio of sleepover nights, it’s been better, but sometimes, i will wake up in the night and think you are with me, curled up on the floor.
no longer an insomniac, i don’t know how to classify myself. i want a tidy name to sum it all up. there isn’t one.
i’m on the edge right now and it’s nothing to do with the pair of you. my future lies within these very moments, encapsulated in the smell of old books and pheromones surging.
i call the number. it is busy. so i call again.
right now, all i care about is that the phone is picked up and they listen to me, if even for a while.
i heard a no. loud and clear, like a dead weight going into cold blue-black water.
deep, guttural sounds of a storm brewing. but the storm is already over. we lay on the deck and count the stars.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged about, again, against, already, are, ask, beat, been, beep, better, black, blue, blushes, books, bother, brewing, busy, call, care, chat, cheeks, classify, clear, cold, count, curled, dead, deck, deep, did, didn't, do, does, don't, early, edge, encapsulated, escape, even, evening, floor, fly, friends, from, funny, future, glass, going, good, guttural, hardly, he, hear, heard, heat, him, his, how, i, informing, insomniac, into, know, late, lay, lies, lightly, like, listen, longer, loud, lovers, matter, me, midnight, moments, morning, my, myself, name, need, news, night, no, not, nothing, now, number, old, on, one, open, our, over, pair, pane, pheromones, phone, picked, question, recieve, relieved, right, rise, saved, seems, shares, sigh, since, sleep, sleepover, smell, so, sounds, stars, strom, sum, surging, text, that, there, these, things, think, through, tidy, to, trio, up, very, wait, wake, want, water, we, weight, while, will, window, wings, with, within, you
we are intrepid dreamers
lost in the rhythm of this life.
we’ve lost belief,
but once we believed,
though never always,
and we could have been right.
but we weren’t.
i thought i’d do something different and write a “sunday 160“.
here’s to the future.
and to understanding.
Posted in excerpts
Tagged always, are, been, belief, believed, but, could, different, dreamers, future, have, here, intepid, life, lost, never, once, poem, poems, poetry, rhythm, right, something, sunday 160, this, though, understand, understanding, we, weren't
will anybody tell me if i’m missing out on life?
will anyone write me a letter just so i know?
and everybody seems to be making a film, a compilation of their thoughts right here, right now. irony is, i’m wasting my words on the wind, across the telephone wires that stretch inside my head. and when i am brave enough to speak my words out, they are spoken to you alone. what about the rest of the world? how will they ever know?
you made a film with your friends. i guess that’s what you do in youth.
me? i used to leave my colouring books blank for fear of spoiling them. funny me.
and whenever creativity came to me, i wrote the words, drew the pictures on scraps of paper. i still have some of them. little pieces of my mind written in quickhand.
and though none of them relate to you, all that i remember of X is there: they are silent exultations, utterances of pain and dreams. they are free.
sometimes, i still wish i coloured those pictures in.
and sometimes i know there’s no use wishing: it’s all too late now. i’ve sketched my life out in this morning sunshine. whatever happens now was always meant to be.
Posted in Uncategorized
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as an endless circle
of coiled nucleic acid strand
without a protein coat
to hide in
so here you are:
like the moon,
causing the tides of your moods,
the thick mesh of clouds
as a sliver
after total destruction
of another menstrual lifecycle
and i’ve noticed
you don’t see the moon unless you’re looking for it
or sleeping with your face under the open sky
its coming and going
passes the world silently by
that’s why my whole life
has been about finding
the blind spot
in the lover’s eyes.
Posted in excerpts
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dear world, i’m writing to you tonight. everyone else is either waiting for my call or doesn’t care at all and i’m tired of always turning up on time, of always taking no more than is mine, of feeling guilty for having the sheer components of this life.
i’m meant to be hopeful. imagine! i’m meant to dream, as if i haven’t dreamt all my life. i’m meant to be good, as if i’m not already on my best behaviour. i’m meant to burn without fire. is this what they call desire? surely not!
i’m told i have an addition to my caged harem. S. whipped into submission, you’d think. can you think, dear world?
another poor boy. never out of my sight, never in my bed. i should either lay him or let him go, no? no.
i will be crude tonight for i have an itch in my gut. the bile of the world is rising in my throat. and you can gloat. dear world, please gloat. because i will keep on living, so long dear god keeps forgiving all my wrongs and rights.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged addition, all, already, always, another, at, be, because, bed, behaviour, best, bile, boy, burn, caged, call, can, care, components, crude, dear, desire, dream, dreamt, either, else, everyone, feel, feeling, fire, forgiving, gloat, go, God, good, guilty, gut, harem, have, him, hopeful, imagine, itch, keep, keeps, lay, let, life, living, long, meant, mine, more, my, never, no, not, please, poems, poetry, poor, right, rights, rising, sheer, should, sight, submission, surely, take, than, they, think, this, throat, time, tired, to, told, tonight, turning, up, wait, waiting, whip, will, without, world, write, writing, wrongs, you