are you afraid?there's an itch deep in your belly when you wake up every morning that is molded by all of the messy contents of your heart, and it swells and grows into a bruise with each breath you take, growing closer to your lungs until suffocation feels eminent, until all the pathways in your head scream stop...stop...are you afraid?
stop.
and, playing red-light/green-light over the highways of your palm, nerve endings tingle and breathe in the first light of winter morning, feel their withering lungs rise and fall and ache with the lingering cold – laughing and dancing and rejoicing (for the feasting in Jerusalem)
and betwe
shirt tucked in, shoes untiedHalf-asleep, we clung to the other's breath in the silence. Your eyes were city lights on a long stretch of highway, glowing as youth molded us into lovers who believed in things like “forever.”shirt tucked in, shoes untied
But I remember the weight of diagnosis, the expiration date above your head, the promises we made to each other, saying “I won't let you die” as if we could control mortality and the slow, mournful progression of a time that would not bend to our whims. I remember your trembling, your trying not to cry. In our fevered daydreams we reached out, (thinking we could reason with God and tumors and chemo), and as your body b
singcredits roll &I lift eyelids (heavy eyelids), STEP 1: clutch chest STEP 2: stop heart and I remember>(the way it felt to lay down insing
[PURPLE PANSIES] with yellow eyes –
ribbons wrapped around my tongue, trying to say "stop. stop. stop." and if I
//lift//arms instead of (I)lids maybe I can "speak!" no drawing of= l-i-n-e-s across my forehead and SING!ing while pupils fall in
on themselves. like sweet sea froth, I am taken home} O! VALENCIA! sing me a lullaby bring me unending sleep
"the last mohican"it is the smell on the air at christmas-time, she thinks. she touches hand to hand, folded fingers over folded knees and counts each breath (one...two...three) as if remembering that it is possible to measure a lifespan in terms of moments, as if remembering that the pulse-pounding flooding her ears is necessary. normal."the last mohican"
she has taken a break from technology. she tossed her phone in the river last night, refusing to be mastered. the phone calls go to a voicemail she never checks; sound-bytes, pleas, reminders, offers go unanswered and whatever words destined to be replies become energy, fueled back into the mainframe so that now
| carefully i tiptoe around the months when I found (it was October, my heart) it was both fall and a start. -anonymous |
Best of 2009 - UPDATE, Help Please!
Cheerful
--
We shall not cease from exploration,
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
--
"I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it'll make sense."
--
We shall not cease from exploration,
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
--
"I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it'll make sense."
--
We shall not cease from exploration,
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
[link]
--
010101000110100001100101001000000100011101100001011011010110010100101110
--
"I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it'll make sense."
...I do XF art myself...drop in if you may...maybe you'd like me and my stuff.....
--
.....exit light......enter night...........take my hand..........cross to never......never land!!
Thank you so much for sharing your work!
--
"I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it'll make sense."
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