February 2011
58 posts
3 tags
January 2011
53 posts
One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house.
Emily Dickinson
1 tag
The Kiss
She pressed her lips to mind. —a typo How many years I must have yearned for someone’s lips against mind. Pheromones, newly born, were floating between us. There was hardly any air. She kissed me again, reaching that place that sends messages to toes and fingertips, then all the way to something like home. Some music was playing on its own. Nothing like a woman who knows to kiss the right...
4 tags
Karl Pilkington.
it is midnight. and I am going to talk about how lovely Karl Pilkington is.
Dearest Karl,
everyone thinks you’re an idiot, I know. but you’re not. that head shaped like a fucking orange is full of film ideas and eating knobs and fairies and aghjskgahghdjs.
let’s have that kind of sex where I’m moaning (or not) and you’re telling me facts about fingernail...
1 tag
1 tag
Proud, as a living, his noble stature With its large bouquet, handkerchief and gloves It was the nonchalance and casualness In a flirtatious air to lean extravagant.
Was ever the ball a slimmer waist? Exaggerated her dress in her royal scale, Collapses on a thoroughly dry ground that clip A shoe with pompons, pretty as a flower.
The hive that is played at the edge of the clavicles, Like a stream...
“Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from...”
– Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut (via thechocolatebrigade)
Are you fucking serious.
I am currently reading 4 books.
All at the same time.
Completely by accident.
Wat.
2 tags
I remembered you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine that you know.
Pablo Neruda
Gary Jules - Mad World
1 tag
A porcupine skin, Stiff with bad tanning, It must have ended somewhere. Stuffed horned owl Pompous Yellow eyed; Chuck-wills-widow on a biassed twig Sooted with dust. Piles of old magazines, Drawers of boy’s letters And the line of love They must have ended somewhere. Yesterday’s Tribune is gone Along with youth And the canoe that went to pieces on the beach The year of the big storm...
oh god, Sarah, just stop with the black & white pictures, s t o p.
I don’t give a fuck if you are in love with the absence of color, you have a problem, bitch.
3 tags
1 tag
I’m big I suppose that’s why my women always seem small but this 6 foot goddess who deals in real estate and art and flies from Texas to see me and I fly to Texas to see her— well, there’s plenty of her to grab hold of and I grab hold of it of her, I yank her head back by the hair, I’m real macho, I suck on her upper lip her cunt her soul I mount her and tell her,...
