maybe there is supposed to be some grand conclusion we are all meant to come to, where we just catch our heavy heads into our palms and realize what we were intended to understand all along.

and we sit broken-convesationed playing with threads on the knees of our jeans and singing songs in our heads, devastated or overjoyed, it's really hard to tell these days. there is simple perfection found in the curling up of limbs to enclose small spaces, to dig fingernails into flesh, to speak to an inanimate object. like nourishment and sustenance, we breathe to weave words and twist life into the undetermined.






i am no longer inclined to believe i must wait for any one thing. no matter how long we may sit in one spot or pick apart the details found in one fleeting conversation, i have come to not ask for questions answered. let they come as they will, beautifully complicated and threateningly dangerous when not conquered.

yellow teeth unbrushed, veins surging with inexperienced blood, striped shirts and awkward silences, hands slightly touching hellbent on not mentioning the union. to be unafraid of the foreign, i will allow myself to only remember what i cannot have now.












and, really



can i paint myself accurately with words?

01/21/2006

Posted on 01/21/2006
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