Something from July
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Thursday, July 21, 2016
The cinammon sprinkle is hugging the surface of my espresso right now.. And when i wrap my fingers around the waist of the white china cup it holds on tight to me , when i bend over to kiss your sunburnt knee the smooth hair on your legs caress my lips and the skin im touching becomes mine momentarily then i think of how my cheek wakes to the roughness of your beard purring like a cat layed out in the sun and what they say about touch on an atomic level or the non-touch..an extreme closeness instead, a repulsion of molecules or a chemical reaction inversely ...
The particles we are made of, our matter.. How much of us is water, metal, fiber, air ...how
Much dead skin is ressucitated against how much dead skin when you touch me ...and if two deaths cancel each other out
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Saturday, July 16, 2016
Summer nights are accessorized by fans and open windows and a breeze that shoves the curtain out and sucks it back in like an indifferent mouth blowing and popping bubble gum... And for flustered semi nudes who lie underneath those mouths hoping the refreshing breath would lull them to sleep.. A semi nude who was fully clothed just hours before, biking home, glazed in summer sweat, passing one beauty after the other, checking her own reflection in store windows, insecurities bubbling up and settling down by a desiring gaze. Feeling like a passive slice in an impossible meat market. Counting the grey hair while getting ready for bed. Summer nights don't acknowledge your need for solitude. They want you in your best shape and on your best behaviour ready for the competition. They smell like honey melons and sweat, summer nights are cruel and liberating at the same time, like walking with a pebble in your most comfortable shoes.