January 2010
9 posts
Tomorrow, I want to
wear the wind
as clothing.
I want
the breeze as breeches,
the air to touch my shoulders
as only silk would.
Sometimes
I stare up at the stars,
and all I think about
is sleep.
Everytime
a bridge is built
—whether near me, in me,
about me—
I cower neath the sheets.
guess what. I once had a hole in my sock. End of story. Oh, and then i once wanted peanut butter and went for the peanut container. End of story #2.
somuchlife:
and i’ll be nineteen in a couple of months. what the fuck is this?
It’s no good! Stay being eighteen!!!!
Truthfully, as I swish some sort of liquid in my mouth
(looking at myself in the mirror)
it’s greater than the whole of hurricanes and storms on the sea
combined.
More waves, more wind, so much more
turbulence.
I went to bed at nine yesterday. My body registered it as a nap, and I woke up at 10:30. How laughable is that?
Smoke sometimes wiggles out of chimneys,
if you haven’t noticed.
It’s pushed out, when
it doesn’t even want to.
and when it gets out into the air, I
think it wails—
as it vanishes and dissipates and is never seen again.