london

close, not soon enough, to nothing and i'll be, pen in hand hoping you'll be coming out in words and ways and thinking -wild,wild- draw the chromosome, can't you give me something besides timewarp and stomach ailments and it's crazy like you look at me, i'm folding clothes for the dresser you're thinking about Kant again i know is there anything like home that you dont understand or ponder at regular intervals?

so your on my mind (sweet thing) and the hair that's falling to your shoulders and i know it'd be nice right about now, to feel that hair on my chest or hear that song (that song) you talked about while i place fingers down the sides of your ribcage like quivers to close your eyes and change the patterns of your breathing , up or down (in or out) and i'll be smiling, un-rising volume slowly rising volume slowly rising

angel, so you've got a few new worries, things to think about (the cost of water, the weight of cardboard cartons for everything you own, no ghetto and so on) and maybe you're getting rid of dead weight, moving on with days, and hours how you keep 'em safe and warm, -how can anything be unhappy in your arms- and waiting
for the images to come. words. like kelly doesn't matter now so she does or doesnt it's all just thoughts and i'm only thinking about you now and how far can you go on a gallon of that gas?

oh or it's coming, we're like riverbeds you and i in everyway there's things flowing across and through us: chrome. silk. so were trying slow and uncharacteristic of answers to come and go and questions are just one more rising sun and every now, then, you're whispering the last known words into the edge of a mind (brain) you overflow and there's life everywhere you speak and move and soon, you'll be twice as sweet in person, undoors locked, a cranium on the mantel we'll have memories to share memories to share memories to share.

so godsend: lift us all crazy star of the sunlight and ashes from the waterways and gorges we left behind in memory memory there'll be everything we need wherever we keep it.

so i chop-land from bed, spry, i can hear you calling int he morning thinking about traffic and stoplights, it's twenty minutes from work, ten on a good day or so and then there'll be fingers on buttons that press on every part of me, every time they close (those fucking eyes) and i'll be wondering if they'll stay leaning back forever.

and wine maybe or self taught (?) suace styles with ellipses for pauses in your train of thought no one uses periods like you do. and where's it going where's it been it's all about ending up now isn't it?

so they say, begginings, ends, they add up to who you are and where you'll be in five years ten years tommorrow long term short term goals they tell you add it up (it's you) if you don't know where you're going, you'll get there too.
and so on.
and so forth.
and i'm wondering what you're afraid of, thinking about worrying over, by the by- i love watching your knuckles press up through that black cotton, defined and unified, so simple, direct acts always mean the most. say it like you mean it, like you live it, like you breathe it calm endearing i could die with your breathing in my ears and little "whatevers" and "anyhoos" and "i swear i have A.D.D.'s" and all mixed in like coctails, a molotov in my skin when you are. not where you are.

are you in london yet?

2003-08-01 | 5:49 p.m.
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