| this is what it looks like inside my head. |
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cliches about missing youabout twenty-four hours after you had to leave i will probably be in class (without having smuggled you in), preoccupied with world war onecliches about missing you
or x-linked genetic disorders.
about twelve hours after you had to leave, i will probably be staying up too late again (but not because i want onemorekiss before we finally pass out tangled in the sheets).
life will return, more or less, to normal.
six hours after you had to leave
i was sitting on the bed in my dorm room, rubbing the ring on my finger that came down from indiana on your thumb, wrapped in t
by =IAmPhoenixMoth
mouse: the journeyfrom missing your bus to missing you to simply missingmouse: the journey
by =IAmPhoenixMoth
that thing i was scribblingour story begins a week ago (or a month, depending on how you look at it) with awkward expressions we hid behind faint smiles, afraid to show how glad it made us to be in the same place at last, unsure if it was okay yet to be happy that we were together. because together was and is new, and we were not sure yet if we could speak that particular language, but you took my hand as if there was no question of whether the callus on my palm belonged against the soft white lines of yours.that thing i was scribbling
i made you stop when the train came in
as if a northerner has never seen a train b
by =IAmPhoenixMoth
more like yousometimes i think that i can almost see the veil the proverbial scratchy, thick (but really quite toasty and warm) wool peeling back inch by warpmore like you
by fiber from the flushed fabric-imprinted surface of your face
think i see the fog, the soft marbled clouds clearing from your eyes
i think i see the lines uncoiling relaxing at the side of your mouth
into quiet comfortable curlicue smile lines with how-to lists (make him grin, make him moan make him love you) inscribed--
sometimes i think i see these things (i really do) but
by =IAmPhoenixMoth
storyteller I've always been something of a good storyteller.storyteller
When I was in fourth grade, I used to sit across the table at lunch from my friend Bertrand Bailey, Jr.-- a gangly, raspy-voiced boy with glasses and curly hair. Bertrand-- BJ, as we usually called him--was a funny kid, always telling jokes and chasing me across the basketball court. We hung out together pretty often, and though I can't quite remember now I think it's safe to say he was my best friend back then.
He was also incredibly gullible, as most nine-year-olds are. I told BJ a lot of stories, most of which were either carefully cul
by =IAmPhoenixMoth
emblazoned embracesi am prepared now to take up arms,emblazoned embraces
to raise curved fences high-- to fasten locks firm against my breastplate so as to safeguard my armor.
i am prepared to take up arms with stiffened spine until the moment when, weary of defense, i lay down my weapons-- lower arms in surrender, grow limber and sink into sleep.
by =IAmPhoenixMoth
mahtchill breezes and midnight satin reflecting warm light; i walked along the edges, feeling them outmaht
with bare dirty feet (searching for weak spots to find an excuse for my own); your arms in their green sleeves so welcoming, but i did not slip into your
embrace. i was afraid.
damp wood and dead leaves staind songs and stained lips-- i walked round your legs
and stood near your hips, wide mother. you were big enough to take me in and i wanted to go, because i'm tired and you know it. but i was afraid to lay down.
strength looks like
by =IAmPhoenixMoth
dolphin noises from spongebobi went to the bathroomdolphin noises from spongebob
a few minutes ago. a girl was in there-- a blond,
if you must know, bobbed hair and sort of short-- but anyway. she went into the stalls before me but she must not have done anything because I heard no sound. i went into the stalls a few minutes later and at almost the exact same moment
we started to pee. normally urination rather disgusts me but for a minute there our synchronization was perfect, and the sound of our peeing together was rather beautiful music.
so were the toilets flushing.
by =IAmPhoenixMoth
username witheldif i close my eyes real tight till my eyelids wrinkle prematurely and furrows spread across my brow and my mouth presses against itself in a desperate attempt to keep the halves ofusername witheld
my face from caving in on one another, i can almost conjure the image of the last time i saw you smiling.
it was as she walked away from you. you watched her go and the expression on your face was of the most exquisite pain i have ever seen, backlit by a joy that prevented me from eating
for months afterward because my throat closed at the sight. i don't know if i hate her
by =IAmPhoenixMoth
| The latest attempts to burst out of my head. |
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| Email: phoenixmoth@gmail.com AIM: whitesheetslim Skype: whiteknightblacktie MSN given upon request. Google Talk/Gmail: phoenixmoth@gmail.com dAmn chats (just click the names): #chezfoux: music chat #studiotwentyfive : GLBT chat #dAmncuisine: food chat #Meine : general chat #thedArtboard : art chat #studiodAmn: dating chat  #transdAmn : trans/genderqueer chat |
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| there are things behind these eyes ghastly, frighteningly beautiful, disgusting and annoying. there are dreams and unfettered secrets and shaky beliefs, half-assed convictions and obnoxious love. i want everything and when i die in pursuit you damned well better put that shit in my obituary if i have one, because if you lie even a little i swear i'll come back and haunt you until you are driven to suicide. and not the pretty kind, kid. play me a song and kiss my neck until i collapse with longing. i need you more than you will ever know. these are letters to the reader, but who's going to answer me? |
uh. 
Tired
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I'm not going to be nice about it anymore since you people can't seem to read.
I LOVE your work, but jesus christ.
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