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18 May 2019 @ 12:32 am
welcome to the place you never dreamed of
nothing has changed

now that you're here
everything must change

i know you were happiest laughing with the leaves
barefoot in the grass, learning from the trees

i know you were happiest staring at the sky
being infinite and nowhere, oblivous to time

nothing has changed
but you don't listen anymore
you don't talk anymore

you're still in that moment
when you cut off your feet, wrapped them in papers from your old journals, laid them in a box
packed it into your car with a dozen others
and tossed them over your head into a pile of garbage
and came back home on stumps, wiped the sweat from your brow and carried on
tasting tears from the back of your throat

the silver thread is worn and thin
because you spend day and night at the bottom of a hill
back and forth, to and from the rocks by the river
with the ghosts of flowers and trees, and generations of creatures,big and small
that you're forcing to keep you company

one day you'll be chased out with a broom
back into your shell

so you have no choice but to look with your eyes and listen with your ears
so you learn the names of the trees you've kept a distance from for years

you have not been erased

you're not here
you burrowed into acid earth and lay your empty flesh to feed the ants
while your spirit is bound to the blood sigils you carved into nine corners of the island

you're not here
the relics you placed in flowerbeds and the soft, black, fertile soil of home
along with the Orange seedlings and baby Jessamine
(shards of bone you watered with your sweat, tears and blood)
are embedded in roots, trunks and branches
transformed beyond recognition
but still binding you there

so who are you now
that nothing has changed
except where you are
11 December 2015 @ 01:19 am
"In how many ways must I repeat myself?"

In ways that I count not with numbers,
but words,
with adverbs, in quantities
measured in a somewhat
approximate proximity

Sometimes forever


a premonition

and yet...

23 November 2015 @ 02:37 am
skies alight and bats in flight
soft whistles of thousands of faraway stars

whispers on breezes, the secrets of trees,
voice messages into empty glass jars

counting pebbles, counting stars,
counting distance, counting time

voices carried on the stream,
nonsense, nonsense, childlike rhyme

slither in and hold your breath
you'll find you will not, cannot drown drown

you'll hear the fish's melodies
(as silence is but darkened sound)

i've been dreaming for days
upon days
upon days
i've been walking liquid mirrors

i've heard a dozen stories from
the snail shells from the river

how to travel back in time?
i sometimes forget to remember

but then I sleep for days and days
and recall by every year's November

all that ever will be has been
that is how we read the future

the truths that crawl below the skin
in dreams, are gnawing at the sutures



and repetition

a premonition

prayers to my guiding stars,
my modest propositions

and yet

every wish i make comes true
beyond my modest superstitions

and yet

streets alight and bats in flight
the city's full of noise, and noise

smoke and sparkles, bright, too bright
the veil consumes to ash, destroyed

the map spinning 'round is a circle, remember?
everything that will be was

and what has been will be again
30 September 2015 @ 10:17 pm
black skies turn purple
turn pink,
orange, blue

how to travel back in time?
you lied, you never knew

you made a wish
and told the fish

and had it delivered to you

nights still heavy,
hot and haunted,
cal band

counting pebbles, counting stars


30 April 2015 @ 02:55 pm

how to travel back in time?
...I only ever played pretend



counting pebbles
counting stars...
counting little,
grains of

not with numbers,
not with words,
but the memory of infinite turns of the hand

days, white haze and dusty breezes
sparkles, glare, and seasonal sneezes

nights, so heavy, hot and haunted
by everything we ever wanted

I've lived a thousand years

I am the ghost of summer

I now
know how

to disappear


time folds

like paper

that is all it ever was:

a note tucked away in somebody's pocket
washed out by a swim in the ocean of tears


become symbol

of the universe alive between
the spaces in between our ears

hearts like anchors
hearts like wings

the undercurrents pull,
and stars
suspend our lives with lights like string

how to travel back in time,
hold the symbol (once the map)

the only route is a circle, remember?
there is no direction or track

Photos are mine, as usual, edited with several apps by Brainfever.
20 March 2015 @ 01:38 am
stars and salt water
in all of our eyes

flickers of static
stitches in time

in our hearts
and our heads

letters and letters
that won't always rhyme

I wrote ten thousand letters now
I tie them to my fish's tails

I drank the river, cried the sea
set tiny paper ships a sail

tied anchors
on ankles

tied strings
around scrolls

tied bows on my fingers
and bows on my neck

tied charms to my hair and words to my ears
so I'd remember not to forget

typed symbols, in scrambles,
a message, in code

tied language
in scribbles and nonsense and noise

and sang
into a bottle.

a telegraph
from a distant star

a memory
only in melody recalled

you loved like the ocean
you loved like the sky

hearts like anchors,
hearts like wings

the wave, it pulls us down and under,
the highest ice clouds sings

in my lungs
salt water

and sand in my eyes

weeds and stars
and letters dissolved

...but I do know what it's like to fly

I wrote ten thousand letters
and have thousands more to send

how to travel back in time?
...I only ever played pretend
22 November 2014 @ 06:03 pm
Last night I lead through the river bank
I visited my family of trees
Weightless sounds of autumn and
Blue and blue, and green

Some of us
are not
like you

We carry black bits of the void in our hearts
Our hearts beating backwards from no-one knows when
The sky calls us back home with the gravity of stars
(Remember, and pretend)

hearts like anchors
hearts like wings
the bottom of the ocean pulls
the highest ice clouds sing

I've carried black bits of the void in my heart
Since I don't-remember-when
I've tried to fold time since before I was born
But it as too late, even then

Pushing worlds between teeth
Pulling words in our sleep
Signifying everything
and nothing between dreams

I've carried phrases for weeks
But it's the phrases that carry me
Through days and nights of noise, and noise,
Like waves under my feet

There are memories where only melodies take us
Melodies we can only recall in our sleep
There's a certain way light can creep in and then wake us
And corrupt the truths we'd just earlier seen

Don't forget to remember,
Remember to sometimes forget...
How to travel back in time?
Unfold letters, and pretend
23 August 2014 @ 09:48 pm
stars and salt water

(glitter and blood)

omens in mirrors,

black clouds above

echoes of thunder,

a flash, a slow burn,

a spreading red ember

invites a return

lighting, lighting

setting winter aflame

burning through time

snuffed and melting in rain

flesh into ashes

ashes, to mud

mud to dust in the drought

(this is what we're made of)
18 May 2014 @ 10:22 pm
stitching up fabric
cutting threads with our teeth

tearing holes in the patchwork
to reveal what's beneath:

the blackness of space,
of a room with lights out,
of eyes closed and shut tight
under a moth-eaten shroud

stitching up phrases
pushing words
between teeth

pulling worlds
between dreams

pulling stars

from your eyes

stars and salt water

the drought, then the flood


through glitter and mud
11 May 2014 @ 11:37 pm

Not sure whether my spirit travels here while I sleep,
haunting the forest that used to be mine.

I've had episodes of sleep paralysis where I see the rooms of my old house,
floating close to the ceiling,
soft and slow, like a balloon,
the rooms empty, but still home.

Sometimes I float above the hills
sometimes low, close to the grass
sometimes on the surface of the water
sometimes on the bank of the river
sometimes facing up, towards the stars
and the worlds I imagined among them.

And every time I manage to wake from paralysis
(if and whenI manage to)
my memory lags
and my eyes, my physical eyes, wander,
and my senses are all mixed up,
so that waking up feels like falling into a dream, but in reverse, (which is not like waking up at all,
or is it)

Or maybe my unconcious is asking to go home, like a child that doesn't understand.

Current Mood: here and there
15 January 2014 @ 11:49 pm
in all of our eyes
stars and salt water

flickers of static
stitches in time

in all of our heads
noise and noise and noise and noise and
letters we write as we fade in to sleep

casting words disappearing in sand
writing our names with crushed insects' wings

stitching up fabric
cutting the strings

voice messages into plastic bottles
ink on paper pushed under the earth
pictures of skies in silicon chips
and stories remembered since birth

this is the way to forever
the only way there ever was
the one true map is a circle, remember?

Current Mood: sleepless
24 September 2013 @ 12:41 am
A translation from a memory of a dream, read in a non-language.

"I know you're sad

so I brought you the open sky before dusk
when it's soft
and the clouds are thin
and yellow and orange and pink

do you remember
the first time you tried to paint it
in crayons
and you used a fuchsia one
because you were so fascinated that clouds could look that color
but it looked nothing like the clouds
and you felt really angry and sad

it's ok if you can't color clouds
you know them

I brought you sparkles
like the ones that go off in your eyes
and real stars

you feel bad often
you've forgotten to forget
to pay no mind

so you close your eyes with your head high and walk

on a highwire
through broken glass
rusty nails
scalding asphalt
gentle grass
and flowers

you close your eyes and walk in an out of dark rooms
and bright rooms
and houses

as one who knows the way
always unafraid

but you close your eyes and hold your breath

because you are afraid

that the tears you've been holding in may run down your cheeks like waterfalls

instead of welling up inside your eyelids
of swelling them
and sealing them shut at the lashes

so I brought you
an ocean
with lazy waves

because you've kept your eyes shut,
your other senses are exhausted

and you've forgotten to see your reflection

you are the sky
you are the sea

in your eyes
stars and salt water

and I know

your real voice breaks
your real voice disappears

so you write letters
and letters
and letters in your sleep,

where you tie them to a fish's tail

and somebody knows

whether somebody cares
shouldn't matter
doesn't matter

whether anyone cares
shouldn't matter
but it matters to you

to flicker,
in an out
of the conciousness of the world

but you will never be invisible, you know
not while you have a body

so you can only hide it
hide your body between walls
between fabrics and colors

when all you ever wanted to hide was you
when all you ever wanted to expose was you

but your soul is invisible/but your soul is not invisible
not while there are people in the world

but your soul is customized, altered, mis-reconstructed
as long as there are people in the world

and now you know

that somebody knows who you are


you tied them to a fish's tail"
Current Mood: sleepysleepy
19 September 2013 @ 01:57 pm
You know when you always leave your lj client open, forever...
and you started writing something, intending to finish it sometime,
but your computer restarts automatically, so you lose it?

Let me post this before it happens again.

All that ever will be is,
all that ever was will be

it's written all over
all over the stars

too far, too dim for eyes to see

I wrote a million letters
I tied them to a fish's tail

they all disin
ted in

a glimmering


03 July 2013 @ 11:53 pm
Remember, and pretend.

An unorganized instagram-processed photo essay.

Current Mood: nostalgic (default)
11 February 2013 @ 03:57 pm
Time folds
like paper
of tiny

then all
the lost pieces
will fall into place

This is where we last left off
this is where I left my wings
this is where I left my sentence
and this is where I'll cut the strings

Because the map was distorted
because sometimes it's hard to see
because sometimes we're reading it all upside down
because some locked places don't have any keys

Because we must swallow our sobs
because we must tear out our eyes
because we must burn to ashes, to ashes
when we don't know how to fly

because then we are carried on warm ocean breezes
because then we forget who we are
because then we remember as memory pleases
because then we shall dance on the stars

and time folds
like paper
on thousands
of uneven shapes

folded and folded
and folded and stored
until we've again
lost our way

This is the way to direction
this isn't the way to the end
this is the way to the stars, if we fail
remember not to forget

you'll remember
and again
and again
Current Mood: deviousdevious
Current Music: Miyazaki - Absences
30 January 2013 @ 10:58 pm
Yaya (dead_eifersucht)
Ranking sexyness:


Anya (lukrezia)
Q!... NOT
Current Mood: amusedamused
Current Music: The Knife - Full Of Fire
21 January 2013 @ 02:32 am
Because this head is heavy with noise these shoulders ache

Because these fingers know not their way across the keys
they dance

Because these hands cannot make beauty they cramp and curl
they hold a pen and shake

Because words signify but do not feel, because they precede a thought
they fly across pages in loops
and ease the noise

Because stars have gone out while we were looking at city lights
they are forgotten

Because I flood this head with noise it swells

Because my feet know not their destination they dance
in circles

Because this reflection is the same
it must change

You will never step out of your skin, you know
you will never be invisible
not while you have a body

10 January 2013 @ 11:25 pm
I'm working on a book...
Attempting to.

This one is a poetry book of all those poems I wrote when I was a teenager along with a few prose pieces and,
(and I try really hard not to sound apologetic when I talk about it)
tons of ballpoint doodles. Some of which are from more than a decade ago,
most of which I'm trying to work on recently, not exactly as illustrations for the poems...
but channeling my old self.

Like these:

Drawing is easy (I'm sure you can tell by looking at them), but working on this book puts me in such a sad and desperate state of mind...
Which is why I keep putting it off, it's psychological torture.

Of course, being 16 all over again is torture.
This book is fucking torture.
But it needs to exist, so it will.

I started writing this with another purpose, which by now I've forgotten altogether, and it's become some kind of promotional post... of sorts. (Ugh.)

I think I wanted to share some lines I wasn't going to include in the book (maybe later).

I'll share this one instead, which is where I got the title from.


Broken mirror glass all over
All over my bedroom floor
Thinking about you and four o clock clouds
Thinking about before

I miss you so, I think and feel
I'd have you only if I drown
The sky is in the water, believe it,
That's where everything lost is found

In the sequins of mirrors
The mirrors that flood
My room and remind I miss you so

If I walk on them they will be
Stained red with blood
So I won't move
(I have nowhere to go)

Note: please don't base your opinion about this book that isn't, not yet, on that poem.
Current Mood: tortured
08 January 2013 @ 11:32 pm
The sky turns pink
turns orange
turns purple
turns black

every once in a while,
I grow tired, so tired
of myself.

who is this person i've known my whole life,
so predictable, so disappointing?

you will never step out of your skin, you know
you can never become invisible,
not while you have a body

only give names and voices to the people you want to be
become one
for a moment
and give names to the people you don't want to be
and destroy them

but you realize,
they all live through the same mess of a manuscript
of a person

looking up at the stars
to dream of stars
and write about stars,
to dance between walls
and on pages
to remember and pretend
that there is always something to go back to
that this body is home,

when you never even left
never even moved