A Somewhat Curious Invitation

Introduced to tumblr by a past lover, a curious invitation to an event sparked a desire to create my own space among the masses. This is your invitation to explore my melancholic mind and even find the erotic in yourself. For your delight and delectation...

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Bufferin’

I imagine myself.

Caterpillar, cocoon,

Springtime in the waiting room

Of winters folly that turned

Fingers once cunt red into Sodom blue.

I imagine myself,

Thick, furry underbelly,

Mould soft dough for selling

Beauty in progress to the shepherd

Leading the unfinished from rebellion.

I imagine myself,

He and she, victory,

Hairless and white and red and free

From cocoon only to find

A sky as boxed and blue as that of history.

I imagine myself.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Yolk

I’m constantly comparing myself to “what if” versions of me: ghosts, spectres, ghouls that creep in and out, some on repeat, others passing fancies, literary icons, music aficionados, the brave, the ballsy, me, and not me.

The poignancy of this rests in the unborn babies whose souls lie in my mothers’ uterus. A parade of potentials, of “what ifs”, of lives unlived but wished for.

I exist only in this life but wish from a distance for many more. My melancholy seems rooted in the incongruity of the desire for, aversion of, and inability to manifest these parallel lives.

And on that island a stalemate is met between myself and myself in which, wherever I turn, I am met with the opposition.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Four leaves

It is blue, with you

Calm in sea salt spray at

La Plage en Marseille

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Spring

It’s kind of a funny story; from when he saw me to summertime and being poorly in the mind I find I have no friends nor do I want them I just want him so I can swim in his tides like he drinks up my soul and swims through my eyes.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

The Cable Guy

I live within the time before the minute you said

“let’s talk” -

The grandfather clock on the wall

Stuck in every nook I found

a home in.

I’m lonesome under this moon;

The seconds roll back, loop

and stall.

The past is warm.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

You're not like other girls

She was a woman

obsessed

with love as I was too: a woman of my time, excusing herself for a man, slipping out the back to the payphone or iPhone to find out whether he was still in the same area code.

She lived with her heart full and her head sick until a letter or a message with love reminded her she was worth it and her L'Oréal wasn't needed because he loved her hair natural and her face without makeup and rouge and she was so happy, so over the moon she found herself stirring rice, folding clothes, cleaning so he didn't have to and reading his letters on his iPhone until an invitation, maybe an instruction, lead her to that call phone.

The phone rings endlessly in a room where a man says leave it to a woman on his bed, her sister, who will find out this grief is shared and all woman are timeless

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Hinoki Wood

The giant man cries.

He lies in the candle light.

You are life for me.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Brain and Behaviour

Four lines, one screen, bury me in distraction with a digital cuisine of entrees made only of lemonade and honey to stifle the thirst, never satiate the hunger to cull the encumber so I order the lemonade thereafter, thereafter…

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Her

I love you.

A heart from me to you Or a knife across your throat Or eight fingers I’ll use to choke You to death both thumbs Pressed firmly into your neck I love you.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Null and void

One world, became two, became one Again in a post war conundrum Of sending oil pastel on parchment To your lover in a bottle across the Indian Ocean.

It was never modest, was it. It was a trip into the wilderness; Two players, no armour, no winners.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Remedies

It rises like thunder in me. Far away from the frayed Edge of the electric scene, I kneel to dusty earth and pray.

Wait.

I know thee.

It is me I cannot see.

Thunder rolls from the belly Of Tabletop Mountain where mist Descends your breath a crescendo A fountain of fright from when we are over Let no man put asunder just Let the the thunder slowly tear us apart. Scene.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Hennessy

I always write when the scales are

tipped unequal,

Note not egalitarian, from the wannabe

Rastafarian;

A horror sequel from the honeymoon of

our prequel where

We held hands in the rose mirror as

loved up centenarians.

But now I watch down from the cliff,

mirror cracked,

upon a tribe of green eyed barbarians.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

House Phone

Confused.

Puzzled

Muddled

Troubled.

All words yet none seem to fit.

All of us yet nothing seems worth it.

An infantile rhyme for the helpless who cry asking –

what will I do, if we cannot be perfect?

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Non-verbal Reasoning

“I am my own suffering.” “But why?” said the only man. “The amorphous life,” said I. “Amorphous?” asked Adam. “Amore, always morphing,” answered Eve, “So the apple seemed a better decision, Than the breeding of catastrophe by binary fission.” “Oh I see,” said Adam. “I am never free,” nodded Eve.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Phoenix

And the day was golden

From a clock strike twelve to

Next sunrise of fumbled caresses,

Nose buried, breathing your breath,

skin to skin we were one.

I'm home again.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

The Mad Hatter

I am totally numb, hung, strung by the strings of my heart that you pluck in discord we're a fraud we adored each other universe sunder clap thunder, I hate you.

Does the clock strike time to bid adieu? Or should I eschew these thoughts for ones made of bronze burnished to brilliance resilient in their existence, I love you.

I am a spiral– turning, churning, swirling down the rabbit hole a vial of "I don't know" in my veins on the rumbling dream train to nowhere.

Will we be okay? Who's to say.

[a-somewhat-curious-invitation]

Sunday

Golden syrup slumber. Blink eyelid, liaison. From the pushing sunder of the hunter, I will take my heart and box it in chiffon

away from these sheets of recherché bliss, conditional smiles, perpetual cruelty, you stick out your tongue and flutter a hiss, “Oh Eve, you bitch, what now have you done faulty”.

So steal the fruit from my basket leave me naked, tied to noose put me in a mahogany casket body battered, self worth contused

so focus hard, eyes on the screen clench your jaw– “beautiful woman” – there’s a war, there’s a war in the lovers scene kill me, chill me, I’ll be your first human.