#o-paque

[sensory-heaven]

Wearing high top shoes because they apply pressure to my ankles

[1000spectres]

being, and then not

because there is that nothingness - a void sense of dark or light and   suddenly,                              suddenly,               isosuddenly remember that       everyone is aching for (this?) but i              have not felt (it).

december 8, 2011

[1000spectres]

pleading the fifth

this feels something like trying to drive a car down the street while putting it all together, unfinished but we'll run with it anyway. i can still feel his touch, harsh and raw and inviting, a blissful ignorance - for this is not a warning shot, no final call it is three two one fucking bang here it comes - and to know this makes it thrilling. but it doesn't last, why would it, a game can only be played so long before it's monotony, and besides that there is you. this clock has been tock-ticking forever, and yet we have always felt the never-ending, pressing questions of our violently compassionate nature. i am wild and burning and you are radical but ghost-like and we always think of what is, what should be, what was, what could be. so this is it ; blinding and painful and especially so because it was such an act performed knowingly. you nearly vomit at the idea of me willing and open and i understand the vile things that catch in your throat. i'm past it, i've passed it, gone. innocent until proven guilty ?

november 30, 2011

[1000spectres]

the human condition

- to be alive; i can feel my skin and call up five senses or six but it is just a corpse just a body to sleep and breathe and eat and take up some of the small spaces of what is had here , but beneath the chemicals it is always allways all ways to which we might reach but never do for sure. you can keep running but it will always catch you and you it, these are circles we can never draw straight much less follow. the bigger they get the harder they are to circumference in a sense, too much too much to swallow up and fuck - it's all so void. solipsistic habits dip ink on fingertips , is this here . are you , where? and who's to say they're out there - gone gone gone because we're all alone, allone, all one i think therefore i am but am i? to reverse this order and perhaps i'm not, everyone else is, what if we were but a figment of another's imagination? dreams within dreams and lost in limbo , pieces of but never entirely whole

november 23, 2011

[1000spectres]

i guess

flecks of gold paint scatter across the obsidian sky, reminding you as you say, 'one of the stars - that star right there, in the big dipper - do you see it? it burnt out a while ago, and soon we won't be able to see it at all.' still i know that if this thing keeps burning it's bound to burn out or burn everything else up. we don't know which we'd rather, it's all just too much too much or too little too little, this growing sense of urgency and knowing that maybe -

november 11, 2011

[1000spectres]

shock value

frigid temperatures let our breath ghost into the air and honestly i can't think about anything but the press of your body against mine while everyone else wishes they had hot chocolate or a fucking snuggie. the aching never ceases but pulses to its own drum, racing when you're close and i don't think that physical touch is too important but jesus christ it's nice to have. i can slip out of my skin and let my mind wander back to the summer, where innocent walks around town tended to end in quickened heartbeats sultry eyes and flushed cheeks i can't breathe and i can't breathe but it's better than drowning in too much oxygen, drumming rabbit hearts too quick for cheap tricks but fuck we're getting damn close

november 11, 2011

[1000spectres]

hullucinogens

chemical colours bleed into your wrists and you can see this slipping, eyes wide with lights bright & bent into mirrors without much less than a flood in the sky, there is hardly a single lick of oxygen untapped with thunder or lightning feel the hum of every note but barely hear it, frequencies too high or low or far to resonate anything but this familiar drumming last light at the end of the tunnel coming up to catch you and we're running for the thrill of it or to remind ourselves we've still got something of a pulse beneath every colour light sound

november 10, 2011

[1000spectres]

train of consciousness

i could write about painting our eyes with the ink from the skies, about sleeping in the crook of a hollow tree about arching back to expose the skin pressed to our hip bones and how lovely his look in the light of the moon and how fucking beautiful everything is, every biogeochemical cycle that passes through us and the earth we dirty our heels with and i could say you've got eyes darker than the coal that'll burn you up some day and how much more you can see in them when they smoulder and burn and i could write to you or you or anybody and give them my whole life story with their eyes wide shut because this is not a place it is not a soul it is a body as bodies are bodies are bodies and we do not feel and we cannot think! our nerves can process the physical pain but jesus no there is nothing such as the haunting in our heads        /       the beating in our hearts but for the physical act of pumping oxygen and blood to everything else. i could tell you a story about anything, fucking anything! i could bullshit my way through one hell of a story i could and you could listen like it is the great est fu cking thing thatyouhaveeverheard. and it will be won't it? what is beautiful what is wrong what is sick and sickening we can not tell we can never know we can just keep breathing through the smoke til it's made a familiar burn and we will never know but i will not, cannot speak about that -    about anything i can't communicate a single thought running round rosies in my head and i can't follow it either it's too quick for that it is faster than the god damn speed of sound it flickers like a candle too fickle to consume the oxygen that is abundant before it and you know i can't explain what i cannot under stand, (understand, under stand, under-stand, to stand beneath an enigma bigger than this or you or us because it is above us all nobody can really under( )stand.)

october 19, 2011