Friday, August 23, 2013

Who Am I?

So what am I now; the leftover, ashy remains of a cremated lover? The piece of a candle wick that will no longer catch the flame of a burnt down match, or the balmy wax slipping between your fingertips? Am I freshly laundered sheets you bury your aging face under, or the blanket of security you hide behind? Am I the worn down tires skidding against damp asphalt? Am I the sound of a kettle crying, or sugar liquidating into stifling cup of tea? Am I your pupil or your iris? Do you see me in a kaleidoscope of colors, or the lack of light? Am I the rupturing follicles of ringlets kissing your neck, or am I your fresh roots sprouting? Am I the musical playing at the stroke of midnight, or simply the ticking of the minutes? Am I the pistol your tremulous paw is clenching, or the bullet ricocheting into your gaping mouth? Am I your mind's logic, or your heart's chaos?

Thursday, August 22, 2013

"Take your hands over your bumpy lovebody naked, and remember the first time you touched someone with the sole purpose of learning all of them. Touched them because the light was pretty on them and the dust in the sunlight danced the way your heart did. Touch yourself with a purpose, your body is the most beautiful royal. Fathers and uncles are not claiming your knife anymore, are not your razor, no put the sharpness back lay your hands flat and feel the surface of scarred skin. I once touched a tree with charred limbs, the stump was still breathing but the tops were just ashy remains, I wonder what it’s like to come back from that. Sometimes I feel a forest fire erupting from my wrists
and the smoke signals sent out are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen."