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ex-static memories Do you remember being home alone, opening all your windows and all your doors, listeningex-static memories by ~breatheinwater
to the rain?
(trying to figure out why a strange boy from a strange movie was watching a plastic bag)
(dancing in the wind?)
I remember
everything
I remember stepping off a train and seeing a stranger;
such a familiar stranger…
I remember looking for plastic bags on windy days
and waking up every day with reasons to wonder at everything
Is that what people mean, when they tell me life grows grey?
At some point:
past overpowers present;
any comparison to that orange juice after school will fail,
and we spend all our time searching for th
no such thing as a paradox She's worn at both ends-no such thing as a paradox by ~breatheinwater
her single side catching the sun
bone to skin to hair and back again
she's trying to tan and just getting burnt,
because one side is always exposed
He calls for ice
delivering mysteries
a handful of sublimination,
some tourmaline blood
dripping
He touches his hand to her chest
closing a Möbius strip
one side to always face the ground
bone to flesh to hair and back again
something's always exposed,
sinking into his skin.
expedience I've lived through drought and dissolutionexpedience by ~breatheinwater
but never have I wandered through such a desert,
such an expanse
of
isolation
and that bare skull grins at me
begging for resolution
and we're not moving
but who am I, to tease with effortless breath,
words that come like water, not oil,
dripping out slower than the speed of sound
As I drive through this desert I stare
ahead, fearing to look behind me.
As I drive, I fear.
I shout;
she crumbles to the floor,
grasping at the walls and tearing them down as she falls
but now I just stare at the
back of that bare head with
dust in my mouth
and everything I see turns sand red,
w
morning poem nine heaven is waking nakedmorning poem nine by ~theawkwardbox
to the smell of you wrapped
in dirty tendrils of my slept-in
hair as the sheets stick
to my legs by a thin sheen
of sweat. you, all cheap cigarettes
over a misty post-thunder morning
with the sun a honey blue through
the window and the memory
of you heavy in my arms sunk
into the space we once occupied.
closer still it is the souring
of our breaths still intwined as the sun
scours the valley of its shadows
and prismatic over our closed eyelids
erupts into glorious dawn. sometimes
i feel it in the lazy daydream that is you
back again for more, legs swung
over the edge of the bed, coffee
cradled so
Happy Birthday!!
!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! 
!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! 
Sta.sh
