Spring Time

i like it when you poke that needle in my eye.

like it when you meticulously slice the veins in there easing them into the colour of spring- such a pretty red, growing babies brimful of secret whispered prayers to battle all that is dark. slender slits of blood streak my vision until my world turns the colour of love, my roses are in full bloom. I like it when i cant breathe anymore - finally relieved of that obligation. i like it when you stick that corkscrew up my nose so carefully, twisting that perfectly distorted metal, designed to leaves nothing but bloody ruin, scraping up all the pain and pointing it in the right direction, piercing my brain. You're better than heaven, your rivers of roses leave me wanting nothing beyond. Pretty girls never made much use of milk and honey anyway.I like it when you peel me, starting from the edges of my toenails right up to the insides of my lips. I like it when you chew on my eyeballs and slice my tongue into two - oh yes i love it when you feed me salt - but i hate it when you make me love you.
i like pretending i dont know how to swim. Drowning - like loving you - satisfies strangely.

(May 25th 2005)

Home

The world looks different from 34000 feet (you think?) <--- sometimes i let maTki version 1.1b take the piss out of maTki version 1.0a. It only makes sense when your never really one person - which is true always - well true for type E personalities anyway :).
i see patches of greeen through a thin moist film of solid looking white fuzz you would most certainly fall through and die, no matter how much that little girl in you wishes it werent true - wishes that it was a solid piece of heaven that you could land on, look the sun in the eye everytime it would rise from behind the horizon and pretend you were God for all eternity.
i see little pink topped pimples with white puss like bottoms sticking out arranged meticulously in clusters of organised rows - they end abruptly - snake tales meandering out.
i see the messily grated surface of a chuck of chedder - only its the color of sandpaper. These arent mountains that ambitiously reach for the sky, nor are they a measure of how much a man can endure and persevere just to feel like a king but mere unruly edges - texture that adds character to the endlessness of land.
i see deep blue engaged in a kiss with a lighter version of its self in the distance - a distance that shames forevers claim that it has no end. I am a tiny spy stealing a look from behind a white veil. The sun decides to come out to play and the sky blushes caught in the act - the pink grows with its embarressment until eventually the lovers lose all shame once theyve decided to endure anything rather than part - the sky becomes a prouder color.

Returning to a different life, in a different world - both are mine under the constant sky.
The familiar buzz of abus shaver belongs in a different life, one that im living again. Amas busy-ness makes me warm - a small but welcome consolation - one that makes me forget things that i have forgotten or left behind. Things like my heart.