xxxviii.

scar

....


i can already feel
you are going to be
one of my more grand mistakes
its the way in which you kneel
when you quietly
sweep the hair out of my face

the suspicion is impressed
upon my lips
when you remove yours from mine
and stroll away casually
under the neon signs

carrying with you
a deeper part of me
than my jaded actions
have permitted you to see

maybe this will make me feel better
if i know going in
that you will feel nothing at all
that when i borrow your sweater
for sleep, to cover my skin,
this knowledge will protect me from the fall

but i fear
i may be falling
for you
even though
the chin in you hug
is quite an obvious cue

the dizzying words you speak
throw me head over heels
and the coerced glances you sneak
make my heart unsteady
cause my mind to reel

but i know there is not
a safety net here
i know that you are living
in the past
or in a year

and your affections are already tied up
lending me only a line
a fray from your heart's noose
the knot that wont let you be mine

i know in crashing down
i'll scrape my knee
but i still let you raise my gown
and gently kiss me

you see, somehow i dont mind
that your sentiments cannot reach this far
because i will remember
the way you smelled
the way you tasted
the way you are

you are my beautiful scar



-me

xxxvii.

September Musts . . .


Artist: Egon Schiele.




Musician: Nina Simone.




Local Talent:

Fat Kid Wednesdays.



Chris Koza.




Jeremy Messersmith.



Vampire Hands.



Halloween Alaska.




Album: Far (Regina Spektor).




Book: Short Stories by Edgar Allen Poe.




Movie: Manhattan.




Location: Outside Anywhere.

xxxvi.

The interior was between reason and the passions meant that those who wanted peace divided into two sects. Some wanted to renounce the passions and become gods, the others wanted to renounce reason and become brute beasts. . . But neither group succeeded, and reason is still there accusing the baseness and injustice of the passions and disturbing the peace of those who give way to them, and the passions are still alive in those who want to reject them.

. . .

The stoics say: “Go back into yourselves. There you will find peace.” And it is not true.

Others say: “Go out, look for happiness in some distraction.” And that is not true. Illness is the result.

Happiness is neither outside us nor within us. It is in God, and both outside us and within us.


-blaise pascal

xxxv.

the tailor

. . .

tousled in linen
ive been woven and spun
im your naive possession
under the false impression
that we have just begun

and my eyes have been stung
by your ambiguous gaze
with your needle so sharp
in spite of actions blase

you have cautioned my heart numb
with the pins of warning
from your tongue
yet i can tell it beats on
towards a disposition of waste
under the influence
of your fabricated taste

and my placement is quite low
this i well know
below memories of her
amid the love you still sew

and your kisses leave me full
with the heavy words you do not say
yet your spindle pulls me closer
regardless of the ends you've let fray

and though this is not where i want to be
i stay because its where you placed me

this is where i am

im just beyond your reach
nestled in the canopy of unspoken
after questionable words breached
before curious hearts broken

this is where i now stand

but, really i mostly kneel
begging what's left
of myself
not to feel

to turn in the sheets
and stay out of your grasp
to not notice your distraction
to teach myself not to ask

and your work is almost done
an addition to your sleeve
my heart is all but sewn on
but its affections you cannot see

you do not notice it bleed

i realize now that i am just
your spare parts
regretfully i gather whats left of myself
yet i am still searching for my heart


-me