people befuddle me. should i care?

i think i'll just wait for him to come back to tell me the answer.

human behavior

The city is his lover, he does not sleep till she is by his side. He kisses her fairy lights and sea sounds when she's not looking. Plays with her borders when the sun dances on her horizon. She will reward him from time to time with sometimes rain and situational prose. He will leave, find temporary solace in others, but he knows she is waiting. She will always be waiting.

people are fragile things, you should know by now.

be careful what you put them through.

mhmm.

Zh* says:

this is going to be classic.

if it happens.

Mani says:

no ifs.

we'll make it happen.

Zh* says:

*cross fingers hope to die?*

Mani says:

no.

get out wallet, pay for fucking good times, enjoy fucking good times.

She broke his heart, right there in the dark, in plain view of anyone who was watching. Then she crossed her legs and chain-smoked for about 2 hours.

(the space between your words)

tried to reach deep
but you couldn't get in
now you're outside me
you see all the beauty
repent all your sin.

Balconies are Blessings

Today is write with pencil day. There is a paper ballerina dancing in the window, to the tune of traffic and the raag music belting from my speakers.

'Well, I know you like the attention, but there has to be something more to it than that'

There is.

Delicate fingers that tell the stories and coconut skins. The hair falling on the face is a well-practiced technique. It has caught your attention in ways that make me want to sing in foreign tongue. It doesn't have to be anything more than you, me and the tree, you know. Miles apart, windows make life accessible.

The North Star glares down at people holding hands, lying, cheating, stealing, smoking.

Sometime Late Last Night

She lay on her single bed, staring at the revolving ceiling fan revolve the life out of itself. Dusk was falling onto her window, but it wasn't orange today. The empty patterns seeped into the shadows of mismatched furniture. There was a great sound, almost a cacophony of natural beings colliding. That's when it started. The rain, it fell in tubs and buckets, straight down. Behind it, everything was gray.


She ran downstairs, towards the end of the house that burst open into an empty field. The balcony overlooking it was empty. Inviting. She slid open the glass door, took one last glance at the prissiness of the not-really-lived-in living room and stepped onto the wet deck. She gasped out loud, the cold caught her by surprise. She removed her glasses that gave her sight, and stood at the edge. Without her vision, everything she saw merged into each other. The road was a still, gray pond. The grass was the sky. Her body quivered in torment, but her soul was in a punishing sort of mood. The rain filled up her already heavy mind, refusing to spill over. She looked back, at no one, and saw her father.
'You look beautiful standing there'.
' Do you remember you used to make us walk for miles in the rain? Barefoot at times?'
He smiled, a lazy adult smile, and left.



There is an empty spot just beneath her gaze, where she would place a cardboard cutout of Romeo. She thinks of dissolving herself and then having him swim in her.
'God is in the rain'

Happiness will come to me when he's ready.

-

there, there baby
its just textbook stuff
its in the A, B, C of growing up

now, now, darling
oh don't kill yourself
cuz none of us were angels
and you know i love you,
yeah

this is so you won't forget me

hi.

nude

An extraordinary thing happened last night.
I was almost asleep, watching the orange street lights flowing through my open blinds and making shadows on my closed white door. I was in a state of rest, eyes half open and half closed..and then..Oedipus came to me. Along with Hermes, Horace, Dionysus, Venus and Jocasta. They each recited something sacred to me in Ancient Greek, and I stared in wonder and awe at who's presence I was in. Then it was my turn, and they asked me to recite what I knew. 'Come child, show us'.
So I recited to Ayat-ul-Kursi.
And they all disappeared.

My baby's got the bends
We don't have any real friends
I'm just lying in a bar with my drip feed on
Talking to my girlfriend
Waiting for something to happen
And I wish it was the sixties
I wish I could be happy
I wish
I wish
I wish that something would happen

we're just a million little gods causing rain storms turning every good thing to rust.

houses move and houses speak
if you take me then you'll get
relief
relief

the raindrops

Time is like a juicy tomato-flavored nail polish trapped in a tiny bottle waiting to come out and hurt the eyes. 5:52 pm and I just want to pass out.
Constant CAPS typing and broken promises of never going to bed angry all melt away into a silvery liquid when you stroke my hair and tell me how beautiful I really am.

i can spin a story
better than yo mama's pancakes

carve your name into my arm
instead of stressed, i lie here charmed.

be constructive with your blues

The heartache did not come from the fact that pseudo-love had been lost. It did not spring from the fact that another stupid, silly boy had not realized her worth. It came from that fact that he did. It was hard being reminded of your place in the world. No, you are not all that, no, you may not have everything your way, no, you're not really as beautiful or amazing or intelligent or mysterious as you think you are.
That is what was hard to get over, and not the actual boy.

We gladly run in circles
But the shape we meant to make is gone

100th post

i'm wearing your silver chain, sla.