towards-eternity

so she told me, hair water- falling down over         her ship's deck shoulders, that she would like to be with me: we could write stories, said she. i reached out: empty air; the ground splitting beneath me into warring factions and i had been standing on the 17th parallel for too many years now, as the pressure escalated up, up, and away – "you won't be happy, with me," (her stainless steel nails dig deep into my serotonin skin as she takes her place beside me, distracts me from the fall) – "no, you won't be happy," she assures me, "but then, again, you ne

Oh later, they'll look back and they'll say "This was the moment." Here it is, the evidence outlined- stories told by the rush of blood in veins and the cracks in the bones, the damage life did before it eventually killed, as it always does. But they'll be wrong as they usually are. "Darling, didn't you know that life has an expiration date on it?" It's written right here, in codes that no one can actually read, blood cells and bone cells and growth plates and neuron pathways. See it? Twisted smiles can't fix broken hearts and the explanations they'll hand you later won't hold anything, much less the weight of your grief. So later, when th

bend. once upon a time, i inhaled a shooting star - silver trail it was a falling star (in ha[i]led) like kissing a ghost in the parking lot in the stairs hollow lips pressed against mine you said darling i won't be here forever; just long enough to make you love me, sunrise dim on the horizon, blur ring the li(n)es - there is the present and there is the future but the past is merely memories   /fingerprints enclosed in stories between the pages and the sun it is strong it is bright it is scorching my moon- possessed flesh charring my lungs burning my heart like kissing a ghost blazing fire blazi

She is standing near the snowy banks of this overly industrial city and wishing that they would finally open. She has been waiting here all morning, all the night before, all the day before that, all the night before that, all the day before that, and all the three years before that, to cash in a check, and although she has a thick winter coat and warm waterproof boots and puffy ski pants on, she is starting to feel somewhat cold. The snow and ice never really bothered to let up, despite her mental screams and her salty tears. But suddenly a voice breaks through the almost-solid-but-not-solid-enough-to-block-the-freezing-cold-wind-or-the-no