Its Only Skin Deep. (Ramblings)

  I dream of things...high up in trees and in the pits of Georgia's peaches. I dream of noise. Golden hair woven into strings and tall buildings with rhythm. Of fevers that will create logic and drums made from human feet. I dream of water without a container and no maximum for the Human Voice. Of rocks on fire and tides up to my ears. I dream of Bridget's house and the gaping mouths of alligators. Of unframed windows and liquid bodies that flow an dseep. I dream of black garbage bags and white trash adn how they might mesh together. Of basement floors and tree-house splinters and how human shoulders are exactly like Horses' withers. I dream of topless halves and empty shelves and  how Sunday is just as busy as.....every                                                                                 

I write

although i am as useless as my left hand

i'm not ambidextrous

but my heart is.

Pulled in 27 diffrent directions

Still unafraid of its breaking point.

And when the pulling stops,

It lies stretched out on teh ground.

Yet still ready for the next blow.

And speaking like it knows every word in the dictionary

Most of the things arent' real.

But thats' what happens when

I write.

Lately, I've come to realize that everyone falls. I've noticed that you and i seem to fall differently. Maybe you don't think so but i do. I tend to fall on my back. Bones pop out of place and i bite my tounge. Some how you know when i will and you're always there. I've never said i'm thankful, but i am.  If you fall at all you fall gracefully. You say you do fall, that you have character flaws and make mistakes. I may be biased, but i think your lovely the way you are.  My life is exactly like a puzzle. I always seem to lose pieces. I'm not sure how, but i do. That's how i am. If i put them in a box, they fall out; if i don't put them in a box i lose them. I forget they exist until i try to put everything back together. There are so many holes, too many damn holes, and i have no way to fill them.  The pieces are my life. They are my friends, parts of my personality, my memories, my family, and my future. Sometimes its not that i lose them; some leave on their own. I find some, sometimes, when i'm lucky, and others come back. Some i just lose forever. You are the only piece that never goes missing. If you ask me to repeat teh following, i will deny it ever happened. I will deny i wrote this, and i will say you are a liar.

Natural light getting
brighter
  against
the brick wall;
real sunlight seeping
in sleepy
    eyelids;
warm orange golden
flashes
seeping out of hands
cupped to hold it
for just a little bit longer;
lasting sun stains
blistering
  on skin
like a badge for teh time
spent outdoors
against brick walls
kissing boys who
aren't normal.