the human-condition hangover [entries|friends|calendar] thrones [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

buried by snow/buried by soil: water tables and biological magnification (who lights the watchman o [20 Dec 2009|10:34pm] n., fire pyre, lyre i do not repent, for in perpetuum, all i see is ghosts your smell is everything red ash left on the foreheads of the vintage years breathes smoke on the clock's face hundreds of dreams spawning in the deep with borrowed memories to mask their shyness without teeth we are impotent empty shells screaming like waves clapping while our hands are tied empty veins will lead the way i can reach into these arms pull out the bone that bled the woods dry there were days when stars averted their eyes and there were days when breath was mine who would follow the vascular route of these old maps? what soles would tread that red line? into the ears of children, blood sings the albatross, and the skeleton's rhyme ...into candles leaked red wine skinless hands that silenced light fingernails cut the phone cord and foot prints were left in the snow but i hold the iceberg at ear height and listen for her eyes for though the month has ended, there were days when breath was mine. goin' down

the sand is my blanket and i'll climb it down to freedom [19 Dec 2009|09:07pm] where did i see it? in a sphere of light following her stem cells in my dreams moved through moon and water, waltzed with seaweed in the tide echoed in the bed sheets, sung the dust to sleep watered all the flowers and brought the willow down to drink it walked away so fast, as though the clouds could part spew pavement down like lightning to re-populate my heart we hunt and we are hunted, said the hunter to his bow the means of acquisition may be the only loves we know but outside my garden, behind the blind backs of the conifer guards i'll part my chest and let the rhythm wrench out when blood and pollen fill the air and that star floats through again into the greenest eyes to symbolize life and the echoing gramophone starts spinning in her throat making me realize this is home because we are all wanderers, our shrouds wrapped tight and close we drift across the desert 'cause the castles there lack moats goin' down

[19 Dec 2009|08:56pm] ran from moscow down to brooklyn, but there wasn't a soul to see oh bodies, bodies everywhere, but none a man to me who are these shadows that, writhing, mock tall nature's forms? we are the conquerors, vestige, the eternal, waltzing worms. we are your progeny, winter youth, upon your cities as though the sea and because you are so pale, i will explain this state to thee every breath that life does take is taken in a tree which, when undermined by the axe of time, delivers them to me i am the curse that blessed you all to start and i am the blessing that curses you to end sentences run like black dogs to the fence and in the snow like fate rushes solace to commence the beginning accounts for the end, and the middle accounts for itself not all scars are worn, and not all clocks are shelved. goin' down

chronascent [10 Dec 2009|10:51pm] [spring soul holds of the hand of old winter the steward is covered in bees. red on black and free from cliffs that lack integrity] these ten digits and superfluous two i hear bounce off the walls of the labyrinth i know they smell me, and they know i know but they don't know that i know they know, and as i run i leave blood figures on the walls to dissuade the beast from a shorter course of travel turn them back 12:00 i will not live in the preterit but i cannot unweave the blanket that shelters me from echoes this train car only reverses of it's own will; suitcases and silhouettes appear at random, and they, singing harmony with the streetlights, slit their lip-seemes and omit deep shadows [winter eventually fades, and spring turns into fall hibernation is imminent, but perpetuity continues into the infinity at either side of the mean. and only whispers reach us here where the leaves' impact is history] goin' down

[10 Dec 2009|10:40pm] One more drink until the train flows into my station one more week until the sky stops speaking through it's rainin and I can't take one step Another night until the rain blows into my station as the emotion that falls from faux-heaven invades to occupy my dusty occupation and I can't sleep at all. goin' down

my mind is a prison, my body a moat [06 Dec 2009|09:06pm] burn my dreams chains clink when i walk, entire silhouette of a city follows me as i traverse the cement canopy of this inquisition-esque canopy (red stone walls of a black-named cave) but only during the day there's more blood in my pores than there is in my veins echoes absolve the fangs my skin drains open windows into my heart ignore the screams slammed doors to my lungs i'll tell you if darkness isn't what it seems goin' down

follow the crow's feet to the rain tree [19 Nov 2009|11:02pm] what good does doing good do me? when there's no gavel here, just thunder and the sound of bats' backs breaking overheard if you spent a year in a wooden hermit crab's shell erected so high the clouds directly hydrated moss on your artificial back if a kiss burned it down to a mile beneath the ground you would know the words I wheeze 5 foot square of empty veins ventilated by an oval breeze so dig a hole for three, I, myself and me and i'll see myself in hell among the harpies and the blood-soaked leaves and my panoramic horde of enemies all of them small, crying and pulling on my sleeves all of them past and future and anorexic me's. goin' down

sail with me to where the dawn ends [10 Oct 2009|10:14pm] i spend my days with my eyes to the tide drowning's not what it seems when i drown in my dreams her hair will be seaweed and her tongue will be sponge of a driftwood caress that levitates skin like deadleaves another league, my sweet until we can see the night's teeth goin' down

writing my own eulogy [10 Oct 2009|10:09pm] reconstruction is stone hearted process finding enough victims to provide enough bones to build a city and finding enough children to provide enough blood to fill a moat and even my first born will someday be entombed by red coral at the bottom of my tertiary tergiversation goin' down

i'd spell it out for you but i'm not sure you can read [03 Oct 2009|10:39pm] the golden rule is extremely malleable jupiter's true beauty is to be found on the tangent line of it's essence THE PROD bite down, salivate, dissolution CUT ION PROCESS OF A GASTRO-INTESTINAL MIDAS goin' down

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