Full year story (abridged)

jan 10 2006 @ 8:57 pm

idealists turned pessimists always taste a little bitter.

dec 17 2005 @ 5:09-5:37 pm

leaving a blank…

these days leave me weary,

but the struggle to keep a smile doesnt seem quite so difficult this year.

maybe it was the teasingly long summer and the comfortable autumn,

but this winter is much more bright than the last.

still a little down to say the least

for these past few months havent been particularly kind.

they have worn down through the cushions so carefully placed

leaving me raw in tender places

with a little less patience for prodding,

but with a new appriciation for warming caresses.

i have been learning a little more about the person who lives without forethought,

for reason and tact are the luxuries of the well-rested.

i have come to define a little more of my composition,

and have come to be sorry for harsh words released from brittle lips,

weakened by bitter winds, noone should have to withstand bitter words.

standing up a little straiter with worries to shoulder,

the winter, strangely enough, seems to get a little warmer.

it is a trick,

balancing lethargy with responsibility,

values with desires,

sentimentality with pragmaticism,

and accepting that melancholy flowers in the setting sunshine

are sometimes as good as youll get

before the snow and ash fall thick.

between dark coffee with a lack of sugar to keep up the heat,

you might find that it is easy to relinquish it all and yet never miss a beat.

…while drawing up a second thought.

nov 25 2005 @ 4:17 pm

i am fighting being weary of fatuous diversions,

and feigning confidence while without direction.

but no worries my dear stranger,

i have been long without anger.

so go ahead and beleaguer belaboredly,

im sure youll stike a nerve eventually.

for you see it is simple, and plays just a small part.

i not disheartened, just disproportionately without heart.

august 30 2005 @ 4:45 pm

another august gone by…

hard won pleasure with jeans scraping thighs,

shallow panting breaths, red cheeks, wet lips, blue eyes.

for those urgent moments you may forget,

when you are alone behind blind windows and doors that shut with a click.

your own skilled sure fingers across familiar landscapes,

they pass the time and satisfy and never neglect to placate.

…it fled quickly, yes, but it left this city glistening and thoughtful with memories ofgreat thunder in its streets.

jun 6 2005 @ 2:47 pm

it is so stifling in this room

Emoh ta leef I erehw si ti tub

ive been too busy wading through the hours to outwardly express appriciation for these beautiful days.

and my back has been too bent to sit here and wax sentimental about the days when they werent.

…but now…

i am in love with the clear bright mornings, driving sixty five down a highway going north.

(pverpasses and underpasses are now gaining signifigance.

soon they will dwarf that which was once the idle refuge of coffee.)

i am in love with the muggy cricket-filled nights, driving thirty down one way streets going west.

(calming peace found in the lack of stoplights, and the abundace of well lit houses, and there are no headlights, only the street-lights that flood the car floor)

i am watching with eyes stretched wide to catch the glitter from the water while i am looking east, the night already gone dark and the sky tumultuous.

(i cannot stop the rain from hitting the glasses on my upturned face, so i simply take them off and the dapples are ever larger and softer to behold)

i am breathing deeply, my chest rising and falling in anticipation while i hope for the best when i am driving south.

(they will say what they will, but a clove in the mouth is the cumlination of all that it lovely, that which ties it all together and makes it concrete)

April 18 2005@ 11:00 pm

i have no music, and nothing but the hanged men to keep me company.

Jan 31 2005 @ 12:17 am

back to where it all started, but how to begin? what was this trip but a symbol? an escape, then the realization that there is no such thing. breathing differeent air may be an amnesiac, or it may just be an excuse to forget. but any drive is a two way trip for me. on the way i dozed off watching the plains roll by, and watching the flurries fall the same way they did centuries ago. while thre i caught flurries on my tounge, in my eyelashes, and in the palm of my hand, the same way i did a decade ago. that night i slept in the near quiet, and dreampt of something that i dont remember, i never remember. we woke, said our goodbyes, and left. the sky was paine’s grey, so i laid back and watched it throught the window, thinking of a future that i will never have. sitting up, i watched the land pass yet again, but i didnt doze off, i just couldnt. i was engrossed, the horizon was hazy, nearly indistinguishable from the sky. i realized that on the other side of things i was hazy and indistinguishable. and i was happy with that, i really was. thoughts still rolling about in my head, i closed my eyes, and listened to music. when we reached wichita, i knew it. it was strange, i could smell it through the window. i opened my eyes and saw houses. my eyes were then promptly closed, for they were welling with tears. the dream was over. so here i am, smoking a clove on the ledge with the same old worries.

Jan 10 2005 @ 5:32pm

never forget that stories of the way things are now inevitably end up part of the story of the way things were.

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