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Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream QUOTES

Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream QUOTES

1 " Things always show up
when they don't arrive. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

2 " His hot and bothered body of sweat
felt refreshing against my flesh,
like the water beads on a frosty Mason jar of lemonade
the summer of my first blush with self-rule and release,
even though it was February. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

3 " Every time you lie to me,
I still know your truth.
Every time you tell me
you'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. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

4 " I remember when all of my dreams were in rainbow.
Now, everything I do I have to Technicolor
because 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 rainbow
when my dreams were caught
all throughout the day;
and not just late at night,
when I couldn't sleep
because everything was dark,
and too steep to climb,
and only in rhyme because
I have not become THAT gray poet. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

5 " You can keep moving
your blowup mattress around
in the night
where the shadows keep you pretty,
and cover your face,
so that no one can see
that you have a home in me
that you won't admit
you'll never
and always
be:

the beach bum of my heart. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

6 " For as long as I shall live,
I look forward to never growing old

with you. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

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. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

8 " He helped me clean out my head
in time for floweret sunshine,
while I raked dead leaves from
underneath the bed of my nails
that 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 were
the roots of the root words I had diluted with
extra 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 written
being pressed like petals;
yet, no longer incinerators burning
perished wood that already
pushed up daisies
right when autumn left its leaves
behind me. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

9 " I save a piece of paper that has
the indentation of your name on it—
your signature...
...move.

I knew that I shouldn't have let you
push down so hard.

Your memory left a mark
on so many pages after,

if you couldn't tell,

as I publish again

to press on.... "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

10 " In the few minutes that he sleeps,
I am with myself again—
that part of me that makes me...

...me,

which is sometimes

you. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

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 ours
when 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. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

12 " So many things in this life that you would
consider trash
are my personal diplomas,
my favored scars,
my most priceless junkyard.

So many things that meant nothing to you
are 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. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

13 " Don't keep coloring in their lines
waiting for them to sign on the dotted...
for you will become...
...overdrawn. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

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 WAS
a him
that could ever be you. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

15 " I have to know if you'll read this
the same way that I wrote it,
because if you can't,
then you're nothing more than a rough draft
that I don't care to edit. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

16 " When tongues lack bravery
and hearts protect their own,
eyes always tell the truth. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

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 a

Zen fountain. It was hard for me to believe
that I woke up that morning fighting back tears
for no reason and all kinds of reasons. It is still...

hard for me to believe that you have become no reason,

at all. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

18 " Sometimes the loneliest place you will ever be
is in bed beside someone
you cannot reach.


There is no love
in our love

anymore. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

19 " He didn't see women as people;
he saw them as trophies,
and that is precisely why

he never won me. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

20 " People promise each other the world
until they are not given it.
We give until we no longer receive
something of equal or greater value.

Life and love is nothing more than

re-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. "

― , Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream