the sun stayed for half of the hour.

a bouquet of f words.

for one moment?
forever?
forgotten?
forgiven?

fuck.

the day was unusual (peculiar even).

the words were unfamiliar,

with a new set of vowels

       u

         i

           y?

04.05.

things change.
people change.
no one is logical.

dear helen,

an intense craving.

thank you.

i woke up,

spit you out,

washed you off,

and wondered where the fuck is all the devastation?

i think that the world

might be spinning to fast

and you are here

and i am there

and this spinning that 

turns and turns and turns us

makes this waltzing on a fine line

much more than risky.

something like 1979 and richard.

black ants march

blue birds sing

and while nature enjoys its 

musical frenzy

i hold back vomit.

"help, i'm alive"

funny thing is,

my head thinks about the coastline,

and the days i should be spending along the boston harbour.

there are thoughts of that poem,

the one where your tits rested perfectly on the windowsill.

and then, somewhere between "i killed myself when i was 5"

and the myriad of books i never read,

i find myself anywhere i want to be.

the boats in the rhine river are no match for her.

all of the voices in your head,

weren't the only ones cheering,

when your heart felt to the floor,

and instead of shattering into a bloody miserable death,

started to beat, beat, beat,

and grow, grow, grow.

gold guns girls.

13 and you're too young,

to even begin to understand the mess,

you are about to get yourself into...

not to mention, 

the hearts you are going to break,

and the moments you are going to steal,

the presence you are going to find yourself in.

so while you stand there,

on a sidewalk that leads you up and down,

to nowhere,

somewhere,

and every place in between,

with your doe-eyed glances,

and the snow collecting on your brow,

this moment will be worth everything,

and absolutely nothing at all.

"something better left unknown"

the return of the mountains

and the poisoned atmosphere

where our thoughts had once 

never traveled 

on highways,

or clouds.

ophelia from causeofshipwreck

part. 2

ophelia placed a belt around her waist -- high and tight.
one could practically see it cradling her bones, holding her together.
it was nearly noon and her yesterday lover was strewn across the bed, suffocating their secrets. he'd wake soon, and realize she was untouchable.

her tiny wrists had been too hard to hold
and though she spoke endlessly, her words were not for him.
simply floating through the room, her words slipped down the metal fire escape, out into the street amongst the models and junkies and washed out actors.
these words had no destination, nor did she.
ophelia wasn't settling, ophelia was always dreaming.

part 1.

ophelia lay, blowing smoke from her love-stained lips into tiny haikus.
her body was sharp. i was intimated by her beauty
everyone, everything was.
her shadow was not even her own.
it was timid, scared that it could not do her naked frame justice.
her legs were crossed
the light illuminated off the jagged points of her hips.

Opusculum Paedagogum -- a little lesson that teaches.

once upon a Night
I met a Man named Time.

His eyebrows dark at 3 and 8,
his smile at 10 and 2.

His clothes were woven Yesterdays,
and his words were more than You.

He walked a pace of lingering Seconds,
as though the world Stopped tumbling 'round.

And when the Moon fell from the sky,
he left it on the ground.

He took the tears out from my eyes,
and told me things go on.

Said that waiting didn't become me,
and that I wasted every dawn.

He said the Moon had fallen,
because my Heart grew weak.

That it wasn't anyone else's sky,
just the one that Kissed my cheeks.

"Waiting doesn't become you Lily Girl,
nor does your aching heart."

He spoke in lengthy Circles,
ending, only to start.

He said he had come to speak with me,
to take my hand and simply leave...

But I knew I had too much to do,
too many things to see.

The moon needed a little mending,
and so did the beating in my chest,

The laundry needed doing,
And my tears were needed less.

He turned his back and walked away,
His steps a soft clock-work sound.

And that evening as the stars danced by,
they knew their Moon was found.

They kissed my cheeks and combed my hair,
And whispered as if to say,

"Don't let Time take it all away Lily Girl,
we need you here to stay."

l'histoire.

there was her back,
your canvas of soft, soft white,

she painted her own shadows,
and she spilt her own dreams (all over the place),

"use your fingers," she asked, when you were drawing new york, and paris, and that place in italy by the sea.
"make it messy," she whispered, when you were sketching the sadness in her eyes.

and you wondered, where she'd come from, where she was going, and who would love her.

passionate girls. passionate girls.

leave imprints.

that's all i ask.

[meet me in the darkroom]

neurotic girls. neurotic girls. neurotic girls.

right now,

it doesn't hurt like it should.
it doesn't feel w r o n g (or right).

where are those strands of poetry,
and love,
and exoticism...
you know,
the ones that make up my DNA?

i'm about to steal you.
a criminal in your eyes.

too many pills =

if only we could purr,
like felines.

i am a butterfly.

i will wear this shirt for years, and years, and years.  i adore it.

i am far too passionate for you,

and you,

and... even you.

what looks like confusion,

what looks like too much emotion,

is actually the most pure heart.

shake the disease.

your bad habits,

make me worse.

-------------- interruptions ------------------

http://www.causeofshipwreck.blogspot.com/

it's calling your name.

<3

*as my list of readers continues to grow (thank you for your letters/messages/emails),
please note that this is just a "storage" space really. all things are in first draft stage, just simply a place to collect ideas.

xo

entre dos aguas numero dos.

literature,

i've befriended jane austen,

loved with d.h. lawrence,

placed commas, and spaces, and dashes amongst sentences and phrases -- with e.e. cummings,

found simplicity in single sentences with richard,

longed for the effects of oleander with janet,

let poems become me with ingrid.

who will the next generations read?

it saddens me, 

that the words

"he e-mailed me a love letter"

 could come into play.

technology,

look what you've done.

entre dos aguas.

fondly,

i think of the moment that

i pulled your hair,

and tattooed myself into your sheets.

forever there,

always yours.

i wrote you ten love songs.

tying a ribbon in my hair,

the wind weaving it into my golden locks,

i forgot,

how good this feels.  

i love this photograph so much, it reminds me of so many things.

-my fav photographers who shoot in this very form

-mary-kate olsen

-a lioness

-long eyelash love

-bedroom eyes

-lisa s.

xx

capturing whispers.

i'm capturing whispers, simply.

i place them in a glass jar,  where they converse with other whispers,

in the most hushed of tones.

sometimes, i can hear them giggle.

others, they whimper softly...

stop crying your heart out.

if you were a melody, a song, a poem, a thought, a reason, a movement, a motion,
i could understand your reflection next to mine.

breaking the girl.

ophelia cont.

the celebration was nearly over now.  the twinkle lights were burning out, and the petals were beginning to wilt.  Ophelia inhaled -- and then exhaled -- cigarette smoke.  it twisted and curled into knots, like the ones starting to burrow in her loose waves.  there were a few left lingering, dancing slowly to summertime melodies.  Ophelia knew it was time to head home to her tiny house under the stars.  she wore ivory, like always.  she was the color of the moon.  her dress hugged her curves, and then, like the lover she'd left blowing in the wind, it floated away from her.  her hair was the colour of oatmeal.  sunbeams shimmered on her highlights of gold and white.  Ophelia's movements were melodies, and her entire being was nothing less than stunning.  

love, i'm gonna say it again.

5.

the number of freckles on the outside of your thigh.

my fingertips hold them in the highest regard.

relation, creation, determination, equation, humiliation, situation.

picasso on my arm,

kandel in my mind

and someone [you, him] in my heart.

this discovery of flesh,

the color of your skin,

should fascinate, illuminate.

in this room,

on this bed,

in (and out) of these clothes

too much has happened 

for me to 

continue living one more day

in the memories of you,

in the walls of this room

in the sheets of this bed,

in the lace of this dress.

english literature. dropped.

she repeated, "the words on the page have literal meaning -- always."

but i didn't believe her.  i couldn't believe her.

night terror.

waking up,

he realized,

it wasn't so hard (to walk away) after all.

finally,

her eyes giving way

to gravity,

and the lingering scent of lavender,

that rested on the pillow next to her,

she realized,

it wasn't so easy (to walk away) after all.

welcome back.

the closest thing to 'everday words'

do you remember the night of almost was, always will be?
which day was it?
what song was playing?
probably something you wanted to show me,
because that was your way,
and i'd listen, and i'd appreciate it, because i appreciated you.

(this was the first moment of understanding love -- in all its forms, in all its purity).

--interrupted memory--
we walked that road nearly everyday.
you passed me your headphones,
told me to listen,
told me i'd like it.

i did (listen and like).

i was wearing his jacket (i don't think i should have been),
and that song became that summer.
--memory, complete.--

you were swaying,
you shouldn't have been driving,
but i told you, in mere whispers, "come get me..."

previously,
i had sat with tears, enough to fill a glass,
or to wash out my breaking heart.
you sat there too, no tears, but also with a breaking heart in hand,
but you put aside your worries, you put aside your friday-saturday-some night-plans,
so i could have your presence.

before this, you had asked how the most important one in my life was doing.
no one had asked me that before. (this moment was pivotal).

this is why you were my saturday night's,
why you are the one that symbolizes, secrets of the heart, language of the soul.

you said you'd never wanted anyone more.
(breaking heart, death by beauty)
and in all this guilt and pain and some sort of humility,
i found this complete flawlessness.

if i could,
i'd thank you for letting me in your heart.

it's hard to find beauty like you.

i think i left my shadow
somewhere between tuesday and sunday afternoon.

she sucks her waist in,
wishing she could suck in everything else,
everywhere else,
including her words,
and her thoughts.

ocean air, it's better than sex (she says)
and for a moment, i believe her
i forge past this lapse of believing in passion
with an intensity
that is hungry for feeling (something different)

you're leaving me unravelled
from finger tips, to my draining heart

i want to feel feverish,
tasting your scent,
i could drown in your liquid.

undressing,
she mounts her somebody else's lover,
to share in their moments,
to be lost in the crevices of each other's skin
forgotten in the delicates cycle (last night's dress, spinning over and over)
temptress.

this is like love
and waves still crash to shore (someone else's misery).

i'll stop... when you start.

we let things stray far from beautiful.
and now, i'm wondering, where i left myself,
at what point did the sheets become covers [to house secrets]
and the drinks, become something like escapism.

adjectives can't describe it
verbs won't provoke it
thoughts won't threaten it

cuz we are the girls with the alabaster skin
the yet-to-be wanderers

your not-so-love poems
don't spin us 'round

we will be the ones to leave you
(with heavy hearts).

words don't come easily these days.

it was something like way too early in the morning,
too tired in the afternoon.
travelling through time zones, skipping an entire day, just to see you.
sia in my head,
and something (someone) else in my heart.
you are unreachable,
and i cannot be saved.

postal boxes.

sometimes, i want to stand outside of your window yelling, "STELLA!"
just because i know, you'll never understand.

i have moved. (on).

my heart is constantly going to the ocean,
with you.
for you.
because of you.

away from you.

i'm going to miss this most

fucking you, is too hard, too empty.
you're just a pile of bones!

there's no essence,
no soul.

and this seductive face,
you wear on your skeleton hanger,
is just a garment, easily changed.

stop crying your heart out.

the backspace button, is probably our saving grace.
cause with me and you, and this airspace between us,
spoken words are far and few, but the written type are fierce and often.
how many times will i delete, 'goodbye', and replace it with, 'i forgive you.'

"academia" -- greater than x and lesser than y.

she crossed alaska, wearing a sweater. she wore it, knowing, she would take it off.
take it off, for the boy who she experienced something like love (and something far from it) with.
receipts and a suitcase, filled with sex.
eyelashes and a bottle of soft scent perfume -- the tools of intoxication.
there's something about the way she wears her scent, the way she bats those lashes,
that makes both him, and her, fall for this desire.
thighs, and limbs, and kisses on a kitchen table,
oils and creamy skin.

on the second crossing, alaska felt too cold, her heart froze a little,
and the sweater stayed on,
and the something like love (and the something far from it), that she felt for him, was as gone as her soft scent perfume.

and thus, she crossed alaska twice, once wearing a sweater, knowing she'd take it off, then once more, with it being the only thing (only one) hugging her curves.
arriving with her heart in her hands, leaving with it secured in her chest.
finally her heart, functioning, pumping, to bring the blood back to her head, bring the thoughts back to the right places,
to let her see, to let her feel.

lashes that bat, won't save us now,
alaska made me see.

piper's lagoon.

i remember thinking to myself,
how lucky, how lucky we are to have this,
the night and the moon, the ocean and stars,
and the stranger across the way.
walking up, tall and slim -- the distance shielding the expression of his face,
i pictured it, rather sunken, dark hair growing grey --
a dog, man's best friend, trailing alongside.
the turning of the tide, an empty page of bar lines,
ready for notes to hang off the wave's curling points.
thinking of you, and thinking of me,
thinking of those before us...
wondering all the reasons they came,
how we got here.
hand on the chanter, he starts his evening song,
lungs filling with the salty air.
everything is calm, the stars shimmering on the dark blue,
applauding the presence of his being,
the moon capturing his silhouette in a perfect spotlight.
he could inspire lost ships to find their way,
and mermaids with seaweed tangled in their tresses,
to grace us with their harmony.
it was the night,
my heart loved in piper's lagoon.

there's nothing left to say.

broken records,
play heartbreak melodies
and we just dance,
this pathetic little nothing dance,
of half elevations and lousy pirouettes,
to the sound of these broken chords.

body parts and beating hearts.

i got lost inside your fibula
told a story to your tibula
-- and your mouth gobbled up every word.

i liked the way your fingers felt (the curve of my spine),
and the aqua color of your ocean deep eyes.
(i could swim in them forever -- splash!)

your heart strings were out of tune,
but i pulled them anyways (ping! ping! ping!)
and notes came pouring out,
out of your ears and out of your toes!

they drifted past your finger tips
made their way down to your hips.

you were a song, you were a dance.

i think everything about you became a melody.

bones for sale pictorials.

bones for sale.

i have some bones for sale,
especially for you,
rib bones, knee bones, neck bones,
and my funny bones too.

shining white, they glisten too,
never cracked, only bruised,
here they are, just for you,
never broken, hardly used.

ribs are nice for decoration,
a place to hang your coat.
practical and useful,
to whittle a new boat.

you could float away,
in the crevice of my knee,
but if you'd rather this, not that,
we'll use them to serve tea.

just drink me up,
in one big sip,
then lay your head,
inside my hip.

yes, use me up,
bone by bone,
pay me later,
take a loan.

bones for sale,
take me apart,
have all of them,
but i'll keep my heart.

laureli loves the ocean.

Gili T.

listening to anna.

"the hearts we could break," they're surely whispering it now...
draw the blinds, pull the covers, blow out the light.....
whisper's only -- but really, who needs whispers,
when you've got words and ears that don't need sheltering.
you're so calm, and you're so cool,
you've got your words and your sounds and your movements,
and the ocean to wash them all away,
to keep you feeling clean.
saving all your whispers, for ears too far away...
she's not the one you're looking for you,
but, neither am i.

rupiah.

a coin for 200,
and a map of roads our footsteps traced,
tickets and a luggage tag,
passport and a book (or three),
this is what's left,
of a place so brilliantly blue.

as they would say,
"welcome to my paradise."
(it still plays in my head)

realizations under a fan.

we don't add up, on either side of the equal sign.
one is less, one is more,
we're like one of those philosophical reasonings,
perhaps, not proven -- just something you have to believe in -- or not.

language barriers.

tonight while exchanging a quick 'Hello,' with the most Gorgeous of the Swedish Girls,
I realized how much my Heart longs to meet people like her.
tall and beautiful, with movements like melodies,
effortless, heart-stopping.
i could watch for hours.

thoughts on a motorbike.

calm, shimmering colors,
and then -- to shore!
rolling in like a tidal wave, a sea of motors and hearts,
somewhere we're lost in it all.

if only you were here...

oh forever ones,
the damage we could do,
the hearts we could break here.

all traces of dark, cold winters lost, the sea salt changing our browns blonde and our blondes blonder.
sun kissing our cheeks, freckles sprouting like fields of flowers, a garden of our very own -- a constellation on our skin (connect the dots into star clusters, make me my own galaxy).

oh you'd turn heads, go against everything you believe.
the stars crackling, lighting a fire in our Girlish Hearts.
hot and sticky air, melting our pasts and molding our present.
our curls chasing our collarbones, glances haunting our necks and spines,
we are the envied -- doing anything, and everything because we are beautiful.

new meeting of the minds.

a good dose of love and coming of age,
you set me straight,
you made me see...

bAliss.

losing love because of life (and the way our hearts still beat),
not because of death (but because the turning of the tides).

oh, how we long to be each other's reasons be,
but now we speak no reasons, nor truths.
our wordless mouths spill only dry words,
we have stopped discovering each other.

i practically scream -- ribs in, lungs out, ribs out, lungs in-- "SEE ME AS I SEE ME!"
light kissing my collarbone, an artist too!
i could have stopped your heart,
i could have made you melt.

return.

i am back from bali -- everything was beautiful, even the flaws.
i haven't touched a hair dryer or hair straightner in a month... my hair flows in long wispy waves, my face adorned only with the color of the sun.
i am back from bali -- but i am not home.

spider.

bits and pieces.

little bit.

what is love they all say
and i tell them, it's their own.
like the stitches of your patchwork,
it's the heart strings holding everything together.

my love, is different than your love,
in color, and texture, numbers and words,
but together, we create the pregnant circle
of romantics and swooning souls.

everything around you becomes iridescent,
the streetlights have heartbeats,
and the wind doesn't sting.

your toes curl, and your fingers tingle.
there are no questions,
and therefore, no answers.
everything just is.
nothing is contemplated.

what is love they all say,
what is love to you they all wonder,
and i can only respond,
love is waking up in the morning,
it's the way we breathe near each other,
it's falling asleep each night (with you beside me).
there's no one else in the world.

series: something like life.

tonight i packed my suitcase.
and i liked the fact, that my entire existence,
for the next many days and nights could fit into a tiny box.

i liked the fact, that i didn't feel a want or a need for anything, or anyone else.

just lovers.

i think we have to be careful with judgements,
and where we place them (put them and write them).

an ode.

don't you let me go tonight.

i found you in the corner of the city
and romanticized the idea in my head.

you were kind of like the color orange.
you didn't match anything,
and i couldn't work you into poetic rhymes.

however, my ears, got to know your words.
they liked the way you said your numbers,
and how your vowels were all mixed up.

we made love in the center of the city.
under streetlights, in the pocket of a coat,
on buildings and under chairs.

sex saints and lover bites.
we are bliss.

behind the lens.

breaking it up.

so don't feel bad.

it is 4:34 pm
there is nothing significant about this time,
or hour,
except, for the fact,
that it will now be,
this moment,
that i will remember,
as the day i nearly kicked the habit,
the day it may, possibly, potentially, probably all be gone.

please note:
you can't lose
what you don't have
and you can't find
what wasn't lost

so if you believe that you misplaced me,
(or vice versa)
lost me somewhere in the produce aisle,
i was never really there
not in the corner of your room
or the pockets of your heart
so please don't search for me
behind the curtains, or under the bed.

because i was never lost baby,
just standing right here by the truth (or lack there of),
still in one piece,
still somewhere on the map.

right here all along.

you just let me go.

series: something like life.

is it possible, that there is too much past here, that no one can escape it. the walls of this nothingness just hold everything and everyone in. and escaping is hard. it's harder than anyone could ever imagine. because the real world is more shocking than you could ever have dreamed. it's whole, it's dirty, it's pure, it's sad, dramatic, pissed off, hurtful, loving, meaningful. it's so many things fucked up, and good. it doesn't matter that there are problems, or unhappiness elsewhere, because at least those things are real. they have meaning.
there are people with true souls, and those without -- but at least no one is denying it.

that is exactly it, to be here, is to be in denial.

...in an effort to get people to look into each other's eyes more...

series: something like life.

lately, all my memories seem like posessions.
they are just things.
they are just inanimate objects (lacking life and spirit).

do your memories feel like this to you?
or can you remember the tastes, the smells, the touch of things?

i'm at a loss.
i can't even remember the fucking words.

series: something like life.

i was wearing my heart on a silver chain.
i had stepped into a reality that wasn't mine,
or rather, a reality that had already happened.
it was this faint, distant memory. everything was past tense.
it's like, all the words and the secrets and the everythings were just lost.
i felt bad, cuz i knew they weren't lost to you.
you knew the places they were hiding.

maybe i made that up in my head.

the air was familiar, there was oxygen and people breathing,
but, there was also humility, and growth, and reproduction -- and, the strange beating of hearts.

you were just too good,
and then, you were just too wrong.
that's why.
please understand.

it was good to see you happy -- or something like it.

"if you're a bird, i'm a bird"

with a one, two, three bat of my lashes,
covered in a thick coat of black shimmer,
my eyelashes say, "i pick you," (from all the other golden green eyes in the sky -- you are my constant.)

i put your laughter in my pocket,
and it sings a little ha ha ha to my heart,
(and this is why i need you and your crescendos.)

when the world is far too big and much too wide,
you hold me in your never-ending love arms,
and show me how to whisper into the wind,
while the constellations hang above us.

xx

cat power.

i want you, for your whole life.

the dedication, short and sweet,
written in code,
written in lover's language.

scrolled handwritten letters,
to and from are all i can make out,
and then,
below:
.....dec 23, '70.
philli.

i wonder, what kind of lovers they were...
whether they were kept in secret,
or present, for the world to see.

did they tuck themselves away, behind window panes,
lost in the sweet crevices and curves of never ending legs,
and long lusting limbs.

which poem suits them best...
which words did they whisper
between earlobe -- bites -- ?

i am enveloped in these words,
in their love,
in my own love,
in my own thoughts.

what a beautiful thing.

thoughts.

we are like ice cream melting
sweet lovers, drip. drip. drip.

...this was our summer...

first lady.

you should stay with me one more day.

these words are a piano played, finger typed melody,
spinning themselves into knitted love songs and cross-stitched feelings.
and while your sleeping, i'm thinking.
and while your dreaming, i'm making this a reality.

and though you're miles away from me, i still don't feel alone under these white sheets.

this singing song, poetry plagued heart of my mine,
would whisper translucent words straight to the core of you,
straight to the bones of you.

these words are a piano played, finger typed harmony,
tangling themselves into pouty lips and sex saints.
and while you're waking, i'm drifting.
and while you're pacing, i'm waiting,

for you.

call it off.

all i remember were words coming fast, but tears coming faster.
i suppose that was the night when our world just fell apart.

it was the splitting of the continents, parting of the oceans all over again.
our fingers working to convey some sort of emotion, our eyes reading, and glancing and changing the words around.
somewhere between Betrayal and Trust, is where we started free-falling.
the stars were hovering above us,
their sharp, hot points threatening to destroy the hearts inside our chests.

it'slikeonebigrunonsentence.

overandoverandoveragain.

our love will grow peacefully.

tuesday morning and you're not here.
and i find myself, only wanting to touch something inside your chest, inside your heart.
i want to feel your heart's, one, two, three beat.

but not even telephone wires bring you closer.

i search for the winds, carrying your scent,
watch every moon in the sky, looking for your eye's gaze imprinted upon them.

but soon i grow tired and i'm left with only thoughts of wednesday morning,
and the realization that the days go on, even if you're not here.

the crown of love.

we sat there,
our mouths closed, ears open.
we talked for hours without words.
the moon danced on the crashing waves,
and i could feel the wind whispering secrets of other lovers.

and later, you held my hands and hair.

end of jan.

we were walking -- i think.
we may have stopped, to watch the leaves fall,
to watch the wind change.
it wasn't silent. it should have been.

i wanted to hear your heart,
i wanted to hear it beat.
mine had stopped.

i was not surprised.

and then words.
so many words.
something about the sun setting
and black umbrellas?

no.

'i don't want to do this anymore,' stop.
'choppy words, fragments, more words,' stop.
'i'll love you forever,' stop.

and i can't remember the way your eyes looked.
or what jacket i was wearing.

i'm holing onto hands and a heart that isn't here,
i'm a lover for always,
a romantic by choice.
and all of you are stuck in time,
are stuck in place...
never changing, never doing.
it's not the distance that will ruin you,
it's the close proximity but different beds.

the result of too many thoughts, and yet, still writer's block.

the sentences are changing, they are not as they were.
the words are scrambled, and less heart felt.
they lose their love, having to work so hard,
to reach your heart.

hours and hours and hours of
sitting and waiting and wondering.

the state of our lives merits a few drinks,
the state of your eyes merits a few tears.
i'll drink to that, i'll cry for you.

do you remember the words, i know all your secrets before you do?
well my dearest secretive one, i've done it again!
and again
and again
and again
and again
and again
and again
and again
stop.

oh dearest one, you're going to lose.

here i am, with all your secrets, looking at them now that you've disappointed me. looking at them now, like i said i would, because i forgot before. and because i forgot, the secrets got clouded over, not by thunder storms and rain, rain, rain, but by sunshine and cotton candy rainbow lands (be careful for things too good to be true).

so let me tell you oh shady one, mesmerized not were you by swaying hips and lips that trembled, nor were you shocked at how mysterious and divine!

(i have not-so-secrets too, remember, remember -- under my eyelashes!)

and little by little you will find,
that the secret's and spider's webs, blurred time and silver thread,
will be the ferocious ending.

little love affairs
kissing on the stairs
are you confused?
i would be, if i didn't understand the meaning of it all, the heart of it all.

winter is cold, and unforgiving,
but your heart is worse.

signed forgotten.

i'm opening my head today,
like a zipper on a purse,
and i am taking all my thoughts out,
one by one.

you're yesterdays news.

if you're thinking of going, think no more.

you never understood the things i loved,
the way i was,
why my hair was long,
and my dresses short.

i wonder, did we, do we, will we,
ever have this understanding between us?
will i ever flow through you like the blood in your veins?

i'm afraid the words are going to be:
you never knew me,
you never tried too.

"be careful with love." -a.t.

it goes like this...

we live in a house of cards,
easily broken, not-so-easily made.
it takes time and trust and a steady hand,
to get this far.

once complete,
music notes dance for us,
singing songs of colors and feelings and galaxies.
our hearts will beat and beat and pitta patta (forever here).
our bed, a nest, the center of our being,
we love here, we talk here, we breathe here.
and the rest of the world they float on by,
outside of the windowpanes
and we watch, and whisper, i'm glad we have each other.

".sober and unkissed."

-sia.

sex (i'm a).

you're wearing the right clothes.

Little love affairs,
kissing on the stairs,
and under the blanket,
and on the counter next to me.

lost in your head
and it feels like scrambled eggs and
toast, toast, toast in the morning

i could have it all, if only you were here * (i was sure)

like an escaped balloon, you floated off with the sun and the clouds and other winged flying things. and soon night came, and the moonlight changed everything. no longer were you sparkling and gold, you were only a glittering flicker in the sky, dark and silver and grey.

the further you are, the harder this gets. the words get mixed up and lost in the telephone wires, your hands are free to hold and to touch (anyone but me).

escaped balloons only fly so far,
before they get tangled or caught or burst,
or maybe,
before they return home.
the wind may change, the seasons too, but i'll always be the girl with too many words (and even more emotion),
different addresses, same loves, new plans.

'and if i find you, will you still remember'

what used to be, no longer is.
you and i became mere strangers,
no longer were we everywhere together,
but rather, everywhere alone. (separate. apart.)

the world has changed,
but your fingertips remain the same,
same with the stars that are your glittering eyes.
(i can't shake the thought of you)

i'd like to believe in you again,
and maybe us too.

when we go down.

together we are everything.

there is no long route home, when you've got someone to love.
let me keep you in my pocket. let me hold you in my heart.
we'll make love and love and love songs too.

with cinnamon on toast and pillows on the floor,
we'll surround ourselves in these four walls,
while the rest of the world forgets about us,
and our mail, and our cars, and our lives.

holiday crafting *

two pillows.
one sleepy girl.
no lover.
no friend.
no one night stand.

just two pillows,
for one set of sleepy, drowsy,
all alone eyes.

...laurelisays...

i speak to you in black ink (and red ink and blue ink and every-color ink)
because the real words from my voice,
sailed away with the sun and the stars.

they are lost at sea, somewhere close to the moon.

"it takes a lot to be untruthful,
but more to speak your mind,
so i say, maybe, this might end in time....

whatever you want
whatever you need
just pretend it's love
and we'll be happy again."

-l.e.

i left, to disappear is all.

i'm trying to move you outside of my heart.
through arteries and veins and ventricles.
i'm tired of putting up walls,

are you ready for higher standards?

i'm ready to give you (all) up,
through breathing in (oxygen) and breathing out (carbon dioxide).
because we may smile on the outside,
but we're not really friends, nor secret keepers anymore
(were we ever?).

deep inside my bones,
there are lovers dressed in bone marrow.
and inside all of my internal organs,
secrets and whispers and forever is found.

you're making your own bed,
i hope you're prepared to lay in it.
too much scar tissue, won't do you any good.

i feel you.

i tremble.
the thought of this,
of me and you --
our bodies, illuminating.

i've only known your words,
the outline of your face,
but never this.
never the curve of your spin,
the whispers of your skin.

like the apple from the tree,
your heart is drawn to me.
and gravity, this force,
brings you and i together.

our bodies give way to ferocious feeling.

you and i,
in every place,
in every moment.
a love poem.

...laurelisays...

girls:

The theme of this year: Love (or something like it).

Is it worth everything you've given up?

when i told you about trust,
i thought you listened.
i thought your ears, and even your eyes were open!

irina + kate = love.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsCxrZ0b0CE&feature=related

journal pg 96.

5) you are here. (and here).
7) you are always everywhere.
5) here. and here. and here.

this could be something beautiful.

i believe in love.

we lay together, close and apart.
and the air is musk, full of love and lust.
we are the only two.

and no one knows,
for they are lost in their own secret worlds
of elbow kisses and knobby knees.

your arms are tree branches,
i wear them 'round me, until the leaves fall (until new buds grow).
we are seasons changing.

your body moves me,
every line, on every toe.
you've rings like a tree,
your story, for me.

and no one knows (this love we share so deep)
as i am lost in your world,
of flesh and words and tongue and body and soul.

...the start of something....

this life, this place, it's too small.

we're all living inside each other's lives!

....laurelisays...

walking away she promised, "i'm only going to love you forever...."

they didn't always look so heart-breaking. and i never wanted to grow tired of being loyal. do i only change the way i move my arms, the way i arch my back. or, maybe i change the faces and the words and the actions and the melody. sometimes you wish ruby red slippers, would take you far from home, not bring you closer to it. i don't really cherish the memories anymore. sometimes, i write over them. and sometimes, i curse them. [sometimes i bury the good ones deep in my heart, woven in a tangle of veins and muscles and fragile bones. because there are forever ones, who start to get it. who understand it. who i'll always love]

i wake up with the best intentions
and mascara on my lips.
but soon, with the passing minutes,
and fading sun,
my heartstrings tangle.

my heart is hardening.
your grip is loosening.
and all the while,
i cry salty tears (it's the closest thing i have to the sea, to you.)
and listen for shooting star melodies.

i fall asleep with the worst intentions,
with mascara on feather lashes.
but soon, with the rising moon,
and the setting sun,
my heart will stop beating
.(for you).

xx

solutions.

i've got a pro/con list a mile long...
but all i can think is, anywhere but here,
anyone but you, anything but this.

and now i'm giving you feelings?
what happened to cut and dry,
never-lasting, always-ending,
free-falling, moment-being,
wrong-doing?

and now you're giving me words?
what happened to short and sweet,
no-sentences, just-mouths,
only-then, one-time-thing,
never-discussing?

i can't have feelings,
and you can't have words.
you have no face,
you have no place.

i'm tired of putting together sentence fragments, and crossed out words....

....and just like clockwork, this intervenes....

my mind has it's own thoughts,
my heart has it's own beat.
and while my mind is thinking,
and my heart is beating,
they aren't connecting.
they aren't a friendly duo,
they aren't a likely pair.

and here i sit, hours upon hours,
and my eyes whisper tears,
and my mouth cries words.

and in the midst of this chaos,
i stop spiralling for just a moment,
(to look at your face)
and i realize,
i'll let you down.

i'm going to let you down.

when i saw this collection, i fell in love.......

reckless heart.

i'm just too tired,
to let my heart skip a beat.

try again later.

waltz: a basic pattern of step-step-close.

tonight wrapped in gold and ironic melody,
there it was, bold, spinning in front of me.
the reasons and truths that continually pirouette on my heart .
a waltz, in three count beats. .
i (one) am (two) sorry (three),
but (one) i (two) don't (three),
love. you. anymore.

love.

girls and girls and boys listen too,
we are not always for one another,
we are not always forever.
soul mate's aren't for always.
an intense and passionate meeting, may not last forever.

keep these moments and experiences close,
but realize, that not every moment and every being is meant to be forever.
i realized this long ago.
i've had many enter, and many leave.
all with whom i've had the deepest connections, the most private moments.
i've pleased, i've helped, i've given and received.

i understand this.
i want you to also. it's okay to love,
it's okay to be passionate,
it's okay to care
and it's okay to move on.

The mind-door continues to open, and quickly shut.
And I don’t want to speak about you in ways that are sad.
I want you to open your eyes, and see the degradation of it all.
To have and to hold, to have and to hurt – you choose.
Because I simply cannot continue speaking to the sad of you.
I want the happy of you, the best of you.

...more cocaine arms...

i prefer cocaine arms and too-thin thighs.
i prefer you and me together [cocaine habit, too-thin lies].
we'll always love, over and over and over again.
we'll never stop.

our hearts aren't cold, our hearts aren't gone.
they're just tired and broken, sad and lacking oxygen.

i prefer cocaine arms and too-thin thighs.
i prefer bones and bones and dreams and bones.
and i'll always love, over and over and over again.
until my bones are too worn,
until my eyes no longer see.

to fall out of.
to be sad because of.
changing hearts & loose-leaf paper.

There are really a very selected few who I can talk to, and most, seem to be far away.
Everyone here seems to be under some "curse" or "illusion."
Maybe, others elsewhere, are just as lost.
Placing our dreams and ideals of what things should be, on things that are not.
Not real, not right, not progressing, not moving.
When did we become these girls, these souls.
When did we decide that this was how it was going to be.
And, how come it happens to me first.
I am the first, the example, the before and after thought.
So, when these things become firsts for everyone else, I am further down the tracks.
Further down the road, under a raincloud pouring down.
Still the same, but far apart.
The realizations are different, the illusion's wearing thin.

And when this happens, when you no longer see the same things in the looking glass,
the "everyone's" unreal dreams and not-so-true ideals of what things should be, placed on things that are not, become too much to take.
Not only do you lose your mind, but everyone else in the process.

[I guess there has to be a first for everything, and who better than I]

one tuesday afternoon...

art stuff *

i am mine.

lyricist, that's what you've made me.
scribbling lines about cigarette smoke that curls,
and thoughts on the strains of this city.

the further you are, the more comfortable i am,
it's just me and my words (and a picture or two).

it's not you who is going to be,
you're just another point on the map,
someone who inspires cupcake recipes
and, one too many drinks.

pictures of kara :

faery faery.
your wings are paper thin.
you pinch toes.
the sun is setting on us and all our dreams.
the sun is forgetting us and all our dreams.
you glanced at me with some-coloured, any-coloured eyes. and for a moment, i forgot about the sun, i forgot about the dreams.
"i am learning away from you."
i am growing away from you.

i feel it all *

ralph lauren (hearts)

we're losing each other.

forever,

is starting to look a lot like for now, for then, forgotten.

outside.

hold me close.

i don't want to do this again.

i just want to know, that everything will be alright.

i'm tired of worries.

xx

cloud watching.

stop. go. do not enter.
these are signs. literal pictures, literal words, literal thoughts.
but there are not-so-literal signs too,
that come in the shape of shiny circular discs and all things going wrong.
the thing about these signs, being not so clear, and not so obvious,
is that they are not read by the eyes, but by the heart.
they travel through us, through the blood of us, through the veins of us,
my veins run deep, and my circulation is poor. so my heart and my eyes aren't on the same page,
neither is my mind or my thoughts.
and the worst part is,
that these self-imposed restrictions
are not enough to pull me away.

..."examine your goals and make sure they are an expression of who you really are"....

"Now the night is big and quiet. No moon. We talk, talk, talk. Nothing to interrupt us except the shooting stars."

-fm

saved

if bipolar had a sister, who was much more gentle, and far more kind,

i think you could diagnose these tiny sighs sneaking away from my breathing.
the little flicker of upset, too-blue, slightly mad, happy, warm, content -- happy?

if i could just hold onto inherited grapes, the taste of purple....

to be yours.

to be mine.

to be my own.

[your entire existance depends on it....]

[this isn't for the faint of heart]

what didn't we know when this started?
was it not clear.
what part of this did we chose to first ignore,
and when,
and where,
and how.

and now, if you don't love me for the cocaine arms, and too-thin thighs,
then i don't really need your truth [and especially not your lies].
what part of me was it, that made the path too hard.
was it the love, or my heart,
the truth or the understanding about the world.

when is wrong, right?
when is right, wrong?
when is enough, enough,
tell me.

i don't really like your worsts,
and sometimes, not even your bests.
but i'll always like you because of what you look like.
[let's be shallow together]

-cigarettes
-not too much cash
-not eating
-not sleeping
-not thinking

...i'll sleep too much, you'll sleep too late... and we'll just forget this ever happened.

"you're just somebody that i used to know"

my eyes, they miss the way you look at me.
they can see all of your secrets and all of your thoughts.
where are your secrets now?
and in your thoughts who rests?

november things.

"the stars are burning through this changing time"
-tn

love is...

where my heart is.

photos.

'MY FAVORITE PLACE IS
ME & YOU.'

here, everyone is no one as a whole, but each is someone to somebody else
it’s the curse of concrete forests and billboard skies
there are constant faces with no names
there are half-smiles and new smiles
but there are rarely familiar ones
and the nobodies never see each other twice
there is no “who’s he, who’s she” here
there are simple glances and half loves
sometimes i miss being a someone as a whole
i miss the non-existence of no ones
and other times, i don’t mind being a no one
with only a few somebodies to love me.

I'm somewhat of a Mystery,
And, I've given up on old ways, and opened up my eyes to the new
So I'm here and I'm now, and I'm there and I'm then (all rolled into one).
And the glint in my eye is enough to let me know this is real.
I've always been quite the talker, but there are now periods of silence (between you and I).
But that's okay, because I have cherry blossoms and rose petals and pretty girls in my heart.
And all my good plans they killed themselves, so that the sun and the moon and the stars could intervene
And I'd be closer to where I'm supposed to be.

Right now, i don't want you, or your words.

If only I could see the fragments stuck in your shoes,
the dust beneath your nose, and the cuts between your toes.
If only I could be the pen in your hand, writing your words,
spilling the ink.
Do you have rocks or stones beneath your feet?
Are you on roads, or paths, or never-ending streets?
Is the sky dark and grey,what are the things you choose to say?
Lover's grip and Lover's tears aren't enough to hold you close.
Oceans, and waves, and sky scrapers see you
The clothes you wear, the foreign air and the bed you lay in, they feel you.
And countries and land and pavement taste you, judge you, hold you.
I am jealous of the air, the land and your eyelashes,
Touching you, Feeling you, Seeing you.

"Life's an Occasion -- Rise to It"

my heart can pitta patta all it wants, but it's never going to forget you.
it may miss you, but it's not ever going to be too sad.
because inside my heart is your kiss, and inside your kiss, your love.
my heart, far from your heart, is never going to stray.
because distance might be measured in oceans and miles, but love is measured in heartbeats and dreams. [and you're in every beat, and you're found in all my dreams].
heartbeats and dreams are much more profound than the legend of a map.
they'll carry you further than roads and boats and wings in the sky.
my heart, while missing you, will not be as lonely as my body.
bodies get lonely, without touches and glances.
but bodies too, like hearts, may be far away, but are never far apart.
my body will always remember love bites and the way it curls into yours.
but if oceans and strange faces make you forget these things, if your mind starts to ignore the pitta patta of your heart, and the curves of my body, then the atmosphere will hug you close, the sun will kiss your cheeks, and the moon will sing you sweet lullabies.
after all, we are still under the same blanket of stars....
our hearts may be sad, and they may break, but they never stop loving.

we'll paint every room a different color, until we find just the right one.
we'll dance in whites and magentas, in lights and darks.
and i'll whisper in colors across the room. catch the color, catch the phrase.

i wait, i wait, so patiently
i'm quiet as a cup
i hope you'll come and rattle me
Quick! come wake me up.
-lucy

can't look at your face, your arms, your everythings.
when i see you, you and yourself, i feel stuck in time somewhere where i'm not.
i never understood the excitement of unseen faces and familiar places -- until now.
i don't want you to be unseen, or gone, or away, or any other words but close to me.

* note, i'm transferring these all over from livejournal, so they are very much out of order and all over the place.

we only have so many more moments.
more than none, less than more.
only. a. few. more.
(do you feel it too?)
i don't want the same sky, the same stars.
i want the same point on a map.
(my heart breaking?)
i want simple, easy, near.

blurb...

today i saw a girl who had the most gorgeous hands i've ever seen... they were so skinny and her fingers were extra long, and i think i fell in love with her and her hands. hands are my new thing... not replacing hip bones and collar bones, but they are definetly up there.

who's hands have you been holding? keep your fingers wrapped around them, because sometimes hands are hard to hold, or they just aren't there to cling on to at all. sometimes you forget how important hands can be to have and hold -- and touch. i want plenty and many.

click me.

letters.

i heart: kate moss.

take me now, as i am.

it's lost, like your dreams when you wake.
it's not, like days past.
....we are floating, we are floating, we are floating and falling and floating and falling....
it's far and it's few.
it's me and it's you.
it's love and it's not.
it's hard, i forgot.
....we are still, we are still, standing still, floating still, being still....

it's not.
you're not.
i'm not.
we're not.

and i am.
and you are.
but we aren't.

i'll love you more than boundary lines and oceans blue.
more than streetlights and casual glances, one-time glances.

This page was empty

before I gave it words

empty like your heart

before I kissed you

like your eyes

before I glanced your way.

WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE?

EVERYTHING.

People have secrets, and while that is to be understood, sometimes, I think, that most of the secrets are the awful sort. Secrets and spider's web, blurred time and silver thread. And the curse of first love's can be blinding. The sticky webs that hold secrets unfaithful, are forgiven, not seen. I know too many under this curse. No one understands, until they've finally let go. Until then, they have no hope, like boats lost at sea, or feathers fallen. My heart breaks for them, if only they knew...

summer things.