Saturday, March 31, 2007

In my dream... We finally ran away.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

There's something about staring into a blizzard...

I should be writing.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Things to do before July

- Read "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac

- ... there will be more. I just can't think as of now.. if anyone has anymore things I have to do before July, please please let me know.

Friday, March 16, 2007

Her heart beat inside the floorboards.
Blood oozed out of the cracks in the closet.
In bed he lay, fast asleep
As the window panes watched his chest
Rise and fall with breath.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Headlights cut through the night. His voice cuts through hers as he tears at the wheel and catches the vehicle from a quick slip off the nearing edge.
"You brought this on yourself."
Frantic, she pushes herself back against the door of the passenger seat. Her eyes are open and closed in an instant, the nausea of the fast turns and jerks of the car settling in.
He never pauses, not for a second, to look at her. He repeats, "You brought this on yourself, you know."
His shallow swears cut through her trepid whimpers. He yanks at the wheel and forces the brake, causing the car to slide sideways across the road and into a shallow ditch. "Stay."
She stays - strucken with fear in a crooked position across the seat, hands trembling above the handle on the door. He gets out.
The night is cold, but not cold enough yet for snow. It will be a short winter. He goes to the trunk of the car, opens the latch and throws up the top. His hand grips around the long handle of his father's shovel. He places it delicately so it is leaning against the side of the car. He throws open the driver's side door.
Eyes their widest, the girl's fingers hit the handle -once, twice. She chokes back a cry and attempts to clamber over the passenger seat and into the back. He hooks her ankle and drags her sideways, grasping on to her arms and legs, pulling her in like the tide. "I told you to stay."
He lets her go as she scrapes against the dirt. On hands and knees, she reaches out for him as he picks up the handle of the shovel and raises it, testing the weight. "Don't do this."
His eyes cut through her as the flat end of the shovel cut off her next words. "I told you to stay. You never fucking listened to me." He threw the shovel down in the dirt next to her sunken body.
The air bit into his flesh and he pulled his coat close against his chest. The first of snow was beginning to fall and dust the scene. Maybe it was going to be a long winter, afterall.

(Okay, terrible story... but a start? I have to write more.)
He writes songs about volcanoes.
She does cocaine in her garage.

Everything is going to get better.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

These days.. there's something cold in them.

I don't know how to cope. I don't know what to say to make things better.

Why has so much changed in a month? I was happy only weeks, days, hours (it seems) ago..

This confrontation - I can't deal. Sick to my stomach and yet I can't take it back.

I'm so afraid... of what's yet to come.

Monday, March 12, 2007

This fucking frost is freezing my insides.
I don't want to go.
I'm fucking resolute.
Someone kidnap me?
I need to - need to - get away.

Friday, March 09, 2007

I'm sorry,
But I want to
Make you suffer.

For this I'll never be finished.
Broken tea cups
Strewn like babies' teeth,
Across hardwood floor.

Pick your battles

She bathes in blood and dreams.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Your eyes are my map to the stars.

And I don't think I like you.
Where the fuck is the stardust, the sparks, the fucking butterflies?
And I slam down the phone
Addicted to passion
And this time, it's anger
At myself.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

wrists captured her
in the present the only
thing left of the past

her breath escaped
its prison and she lay flat
on the sidewalks

her denouement and
the flesh wailed you never
found the better things

i hope that the gears
get stuck i hope that the gears
get stuck i hope that

Haiku2 for iwishilovedyoulessthanthis

Created by Graham
And I will try... to fix you.

Emotional uproar. My fingertips are hot with regret and stained with rash decisions.

Friday, March 02, 2007

His calculating coldness,
Mid-morning escalation
Of tensions drawn quick
Upon the throat.