December 2010
15 posts
I’m ready to go home.
I want to pile up great heavy duvets on top of clean sheets, turn all the lights out, turn the heat way down low, climb in and just hide away till 2011 is just another mark.
I miss my dog, my guitar and the ocean I call my backyard. I want to go home.
The tequila thins my blood just enough that red seeps through the stitches of my patchwork heart, stains my shirt and betrays my history. I am just another mess of a man, with too little to show for too much time spent, anchors and arrows and things left unsaid. I know the taste and how this feels, but never the name, and always the waking ache and shallow breath. I remember you not as head and...
go
I go because distance isn’t reason strong enough to keep me away. Because sleep can wait - for what is the point of dreaming, if I dream only of you? I’d rather go without - rather push beyond fatigue and through exhaustion to discard such dreams and hold you in my arms, in flesh and blood and real feeling. I need your hands on my back and your smell on my skin, your breath in my lungs...
1 tag
#72
Do you know why I love her? Because she’s flawed. Because she isn’t perfect - she isn’t even close. Because she has a scar on her chin. Because she can’t ever get her hair just the way she wants it. Because of the way her toes weren’t made for wearing sandals, and because she’s more like her mother than she’d like to admit. Because she cries when...
mynameisabi asked: Desert Island Books, you can take five with you, what are they and why?
“I want to melt like a snowman in Georgia until my smile is a pile of rocks you...”
– Andrea Gibson
Friday
Friday night, a long week behind me, and nothing to worry about for days ahead. The night is fresh and clean, practically gushing with possibility, and outside one can sometimes hear the passing of half-drunk revelers headed downtown.
And me? I’m in bed, the dog snoring at my feet and a large pile of books on my nightstand. I’ve got a giant pot of good tea, the covers piled deep and...
Awake, but dreaming. Aware, astounded and ashamed with the realization that all the things about myself I’ve wanted to change so badly, are really all the things I should be celebrating.
Miles to Gracetown
Sixty-four miles to Gracetown. The poorly folded map I’ve got shoved down deep, into the dusty valley between windshield and dashboard, flutters limply in the breeze, tapping out a rhythm against defrost vents and safety glass. My head hurts, the idle loping sort of ache serves to both remind of both the nights before and the evening to come; there’s still a half bottle of whiskey...
By the Kilowatt
You know, I always imagined it something more
Sitting on the floor near the window with all the lights off, watching the night sky pour down endlessly, black into black into blacker still, rivers of dark coursing down the gutter. Listening to music that I shouldn’t listen to, letting certain lines and lyrics swirl around inside my head like drunken moths swimming slow lazy circles round a rapidly dimming bulb. The floorboards creak and...
I wish it was made more clear that the queue function reserves lengthy, detailed posts for eventual deletion rather than actual publication.
1 tag
is this god?
to be found
at last
and least
in your eyes
know that
i always loved
you
this
us
everything
and all between
i never wished
for more
or less despite
in left
and leavings
all we are
ultimately defined
only in loss
if i could choose
i would remember
knowing grins
easy eyes
like so many
i’d hoped to see
before
and not this hollow
of heart and mind
or...