Home > Work > Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream
1 " Things always show upwhen they don't arrive. "
― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream
2 " His hot and bothered body of sweatfelt refreshing against my flesh,like the water beads on a frosty Mason jar of lemonadethe summer of my first blush with self-rule and release,even though it was February. "
3 " Every time you lie to me,I still know your truth.Every time you tell meyou're not allowed to love me anymore,I can still hear the gospel behind your tongue.And, that is not my silent desperation; that is your desperate silence. "
4 " I remember when all of my dreams were in rainbow.Now, everything I do I have to Technicolorbecause it's all become so black and white...so subtle hues,no longer Prismacolor me and you.I sharpen those pencils,but they still come up dull.I shade and shade and shade,but it all comes up a shady review.I miss the rainbowwhen my dreams were caughtall throughout the day;and not just late at night,when I couldn't sleepbecause everything was dark,and too steep to climb,and only in rhyme becauseI have not become THAT gray poet. "
5 " You can keep movingyour blowup mattress aroundin the nightwhere the shadows keep you pretty,and cover your face,so that no one can seethat you have a home in methat you won't admityou'll neverand always be:the beach bum of my heart. "
6 " For as long as I shall live,I look forward to never growing oldwith you. "
7 " It's all a conundrum, isn't it—forgetting the mixed tape in the car...feeling forgotten when...so many people are thinking of us?Drinking when we should be eating...sleeping when we should be making love...thanking God above when we don't have enough?Each day is a mad rush to something irrelevant.We measure our pricelessness by our successes, which...still equals money.Life goes by so quick when each day is a mad rush to slow motion.We eat fast food so that we can go to bed on time,but, trust me, everyone wakes up too late. "
8 " He helped me clean out my headin time for floweret sunshine,while I raked dead leaves fromunderneath the bed of my nailsthat were waiting to be organized in diaries.As the 'Forbidding Numb' piled up,he laundered my abandoned hope clean.All that I could smell on my hands werethe roots of the root words I had diluted withextra letters and slushiness. There isn't a corner that we missed;and, in no time at all,I will forget the wretchedness of this winter.Soon, I will only smell peonies and calla lilies,fresh cotton sheets, and maybe—just maybe—the paperless books that I have writtenbeing pressed like petals;yet, no longer incinerators burningperished wood that alreadypushed up daisiesright when autumn left its leavesbehind me. "
9 " I save a piece of paper that hasthe indentation of your name on it—your signature......move.I knew that I shouldn't have let youpush down so hard.Your memory left a markon so many pages after,if you couldn't tell,as I publish againto press on.... "
10 " In the few minutes that he sleeps,I am with myself again—that part of me that makes me......me,which is sometimesyou. "
11 " I've lost touch with myself. It seems like she and I have not touched base for ages,I can't remember the last time I talked to her, honest to God.She's always been my best friend—my vicarious better half.It's such a shame, really...I wish I knew what she was up to these days.I really, REALLY do.It's not as though you can close a bond like ourswhen the room gets too messy; you can't just shut the door.It's common knowledge they'll only open a window...and sneak out.I don't know where she is now.She could be on a train to the other coast, for all I know. I quit listening to her wishes a long time ago. Shame on me. "
12 " So many things in this life that you wouldconsider trashare my personal diplomas,my favored scars, my most priceless junkyard.So many things that meant nothing to youare the encyclopedias to my whole,are the ticket fares to my soul,are the things that you repoed when I caught you dressed in black...wearing the things you've stolen,filling pockets of me,swollen. "
13 " Don't keep coloring in their lineswaiting for them to sign on the dotted...for you will become......overdrawn. "
14 " This is where I long to get home to after vacation.This is where I feel comfy in my pajamas.This is where, no matter where I go,my bed is here and none is better than my own. When I think about you,you can never be him...When once upon a time ago, I never thought there WASa himthat could ever be you. "
15 " I have to know if you'll read thisthe same way that I wrote it,because if you can't, then you're nothing more than a rough draftthat I don't care to edit. "
16 " When tongues lack braveryand hearts protect their own,eyes always tell the truth. "
17 " The spiking temps spiked a fever for cool commons, so I made a plate of tapenade, bruschetta, and prosciutto,with orange creamsicle martinis flowing like aZen fountain. It was hard for me to believethat I woke up that morning fighting back tearsfor no reason and all kinds of reasons. It is still...hard for me to believe that you have become no reason,at all. "
18 " Sometimes the loneliest place you will ever beis in bed beside someoneyou cannot reach.There is no lovein our loveanymore. "
19 " He didn't see women as people;he saw them as trophies,and that is precisely whyhe never won me. "
20 " People promise each other the worlduntil they are not given it.We give until we no longer receivesomething of equal or greater value.Life and love is nothing more thanre-gifting. When we don't like what we get,we save it for someone else,and hope, with all of our hearts,the the next package is better. "