February 2011
January 2011
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Blessings
Bless me with your sweetness, with hands so cool they freeze my skin, eyes so wide they bare all.
Bless me with the fiery tempest, the storm of flames that breaks the shore, cracks the walls and burns the buildings; infernos that bellow from the clouds above, touching down tornadoes of haughty complexion.
Bless me with your cynicism, your musings and musical graces, the way you pluck the...
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My English Teacher Friday
Gave me “Numbers in the Dark and other stories” by Italo Calvino just out of the blue saying that he thinks I’d enjoy it.
I throughly have, both Calvino’s stories and the thought that a teacher would upfront take an interest in my love for writing.
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Quick write: Lighten me up
I remember an overwhelming sensation of joy when Clint first looked my way. I was in the habit of checking myself for signs of joy and enthusiasm as to remain in my usual serious deposition (being that my thoughts came into my head and stayed in there, I found myself in the habit of labeling myself as introverted, but never had an actual diagnosis). And I remember the summer day where we met up in...
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On this
Oh I could show you a world of whimsy and wonder, of love and disease, chaos and order. I could hold you tight, protect and submit, pick your mind and share my reality with you, if only you’d allow me the chance, take the plunge.
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Excerpt from a letter to the only one I've loved...
You are without a doubt the only person I’ve known who I can say I upfront love. It’s weird how love manages to manifest itself in such ways; I’ve always fancied love to be this form of expression in which two individuals are deeply committed to each other, where they promise the world, fill each other’s fingers and spend nights within each other’s heads, and to some extent I still believe that is...
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On a bunch of things at once.
I think people have this mentality, this sort of “oh he’s gay, he must be weak” kind of attitude, and frankly I don’t understand where it comes from. I mean we look at the media portrayal of gay individuals and it actually ends up working against gay teens. We have the same pretty polished individuals who end up being the spokespeople for gay teenagers, I mean take a movie...
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Boy 5
He’s alive, barely, clinging to his soul, afraid to move.
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And his lips taste so sweet, his breath so cold against my skin; creating goosebumps on my arm, hair’s sticking up and soul jutting out, eyes wide open and mind fully captivated, by all the forces that exist around us, masquerading themselves as paradise.
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Boy 4
He can’t be seen, behind that hair, behind what blocks his face, that thin fair mask that uses him so kind.
He questions, tries it out, never to close (for fear of going over). Always away, watching from a distance, as forests ignite.
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“Believe and submit” “Breathe and mistake” “forgive and forget”
Each of these things she whispers, an eerie echoing voice in my ears, I can’t refute.
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Boy 3
Such assurance, he walks with a backbone, (with a bit of a falter as he steps, a cowering step), a move this way, a dance here.
Such wavering absolution.
He flirts with insanity, uses it as his muse, embraces the fallacy, of certain death.
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How they became God
He was fashioned from a thousand parts, multi-colored wires and copper connectors, shiny silver bolts that kept him together, joints that connected his leg to his thigh, didn’t squeak, moved with grace. Wires that formed complex symptoms, connected to panels that could sense and feel, sensitive skin picked from a catalog, four thousand types of heat and pressure it responded to.
Polished...
HOLY FUCK YOU GUYS
I got an email today from the scholastic people. I got the Gold key not the silver key! I get forwarded up to nationals to be judged!
SO fucking happy, so very happy.
Isis is here and whispering my name, she’s got a graceful face, sweet lips you’d dare to kiss.
Isis wasn’t here before, she was there, somewhere different, but now she’s here and that’s what matters.
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Boy 2
He’s huddled close to the wall, shy and sturdy, graced with an immaculate precision, eyes that wonder, beautiful jewels that fill with speculation; he confuses and excites, races to discover, is blocked, and huddles.
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Mid morning madness
How beautiful is he, that sits a top a bench, peers down at me below, waits and then wavers, pauses for consideration, of the kiss he will apart, the way he will partake, upon my lips as upon his mind, where street cars fly and people cling, their glasses of tea; wait for the noon time, for brunch to end and lunch to begin, for the sun to rise and the streets to fill.
How he waits and...
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Boy 1
He breaks and shakes, calls out amidst this mess, yells, “Please oh Please.”
He twists and turns, Lives and rises, walks from subtle to crowded confusion, disoriented and yelling, “Please oh Please.”
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Morning of the lion
He awakes in a mid-morning stupor, cognitive brain patterns all wonky, (from the time when he was most impressive, near hours ago when he’d sit upon a bed, and talk of such things like philosophy and baking, where he’d take your hand and squeeze so tight, while sipping a glass of wine)
Wipes the crust from his eyes, stretches his limbs, reaches for the sky. You watch as his muscles...
@Iwasanisland
iwasanisland replied to your post: I can’t stand this bullshit:
The bible says its a sin, same as lying, talking back to parents, and cheating. But none of those things get as much attention. So its really a hypocrite that makes a big deal about that.
Actually sweetie the bible DOESN’T say it’s a sin, at least in the traditional sense. You see we have this thing called word...
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Thoughts,
Oh and there’s such a pain, in the thoughts you don’t know are there, the things you’ve kept so hidden that appear at random times; those rambles that meet you halfway through the day, those corrupted thoughts that pass you by when he meets your eye. Oh there’s such a pain in thoughts.
Anonymous asked: I'm sorry to ask such a random question as this, but I'm truly curious as to what you think. Hypothetically speaking, say your started to fall madly, deeply and utterly in love with this guy (well, you suppose it's love), but he tells you that he has no interest in having sex. He'll cuddle with you, cook for you, bake for you, read poetry to you under the stars, talk about how...
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Haiku Collection #2
I did this once before and so now I’m doing it once more, enjoy? some of these maybe off I usually suck at counting syllables..
Stars fall to my hand, whirlpool around in a storm, swimming in the dark.
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Outsiders resting, beneath the showers of stars, that make the heavens.
...
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I just found out I won the silver key for my...
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The Death of Alex
Alex was a boy who wore his hair short, his face shaved, and clothing ripped; he was an urban flare, a kind of inspirational average that would float into rooms and shake them with his deep booming voice. A street punk with his head in the clouds, a wannabe who flashed his teenage rebellion around more than he did his necklace (a pseudo silver lion, flat, dog-tag style) he was a creator of chaos...
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Sex
There you laid upon the bed, beneath the strings of lights tied round the post, atop the multi-colored patchwork blanket, where color darted in and out around your body; that marvel of a frame, where muscle meats ideal.
You graced me with your eyes and breath, whispered to me beneath the faint glow of lights, beckoned me to your embrace. And you watched as shadows darted across the walls and...
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Rambles Number 23
I’m trying this new thing where I stop thinking and just write.
We’re setting summer suns, me and you, poisoning our selfs with lust and despair, wrapped in the tormenting winds, doomed to twist around; winter chills that bring us close, shield us from the winds that cut our bodies, blood that’s dripping down your body, beads of water that fall into puddles, reflect the images...
Anonymous asked: I admire you as a person and a writer, far too much to ever tell you in face to face. Your writing, your connections, your will, I strive to reach all of them.
Just thought you should know.
Just thought you should know.