| (no subject) |
[Aug. 7th, 2006|06:12 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Griswold Forest | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sleepy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Josh Rouse "Dressed Up Like Nebraska" | ] |
I looked into the gray forest and saw myself – by some unearthly machination I could not speak; naught but a pale and injurious form, silenced by jaundiced cedars and the utter incivility of snow. From his sweeping oriel I watched her reach out for the man who walked ahead but did not look back; a collision of ash and yarn, she was coming apart at the seams; the gathering snow upon her face made no impression of the futility in seeking a man who would not acknowledge her – it was a funereal waltz of a careless man and his lost possession. At the window a scarred hand covered my mouth…there was no discernable pain in negligence that could not be removed with repossession…as long as he dared not look, I would be satisfied. His breaths were quick, my face was flushed – he had not noticed the figures shifting in the augural grayness of the dark. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 20th, 2006|06:18 am] |
When was it I had the staggering, frightening sense that something about my life was new? And if I could catch the dried dusty wings of the pages in the swallows; the dark places of the past, only one answer would look back at me - "the only thing that has changed is you." When does one decide to leave the petty thumbiting in all the days that precede this one? Where was it I decided I was finally alive - my life lay in front of me, my purpose, my meaning as bright as the day on the twittering coast of St. James? Or was it at night that I decided to live for no one else, and were the eyes of every hero blinking at me, disarmed, grateful - consumed with life; a steady fire roaring in our guts; did we drink to our dreams, our future, our minds? I remember tasting mouths and the meaning was clear - welcome to the world, we've been waiting here for you. |
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