blue burr

little bird float your parallax.draw us back into the tune

[theflyingmikmik]

So spell your worries out before they spell themselves along your arms or round indecisions in the dark. You know what you fear, right love?

[theflyingmikmik]

: wait another swift-slipped hour :

I thought I'd write. I thought I'd write of these past months few, of these thought-things strung up between my conscious and my heart and this world outside my front door. But these words keep ringing nevermore as their current cry, their rebelling lie (my tongue's a traitor, my heart has its pride) And I'm still caught in the silence of Time.

[theflyingmikmik]

: how to say "I think I like you" in robot :

You've been drawing real smiles out of my false seeming. Pulling me momentarily into this strange timespace where what was another day of this underwater living gets put on hold; where I can feel like I have a soul, somewhere apart from all these shadows. 'Cuz see lately I've been hounded by this consuming silence growing ever louder. But these seconds with you pause my chaos feud. You can't be my escape. (not again, not another) But maybe you can be my sweet-singing interlude.

[theflyingmikmik]

: ( ) :

And it's not so dangerous here. Your proximity envelopes me, this sudden silence where I can hear myself breathe.

[theflyingmikmik]

: this 4 a.m. word folly :

I was looking for you. I don't know if it was really in a particular, consciously intentional way. But, rather, as if I was looking for you with my whole soul; really, with my whole self. Turned towards your direction (wherever that may be); no matter where I go I am pulled towards you. You draw me in draw my very definition draw you draw me I try to use words to paint your position draw to-- prove your existence. But it's not imagined, it's there. I swear. I don't care if they don't believe me. Look I've turned into this disdaining doubting thing, alternating twixt self-hate and indifference irate. Tell me (after every thing), do you still see my face? Will you let me find you, (find me) will you?

[theflyingmikmik]

: flashout \/ :

I hate all these words. I just want to see them burn.

Perhaps it's the liquid fire drink sitting in my stomach quick.

Oh the whole aftermath sad that stereotypically comes with these sorts of happenings.

But I'm just human too and want to get shitfaced in the middle of a Monday and not give a damn, so much so fluently.

[theflyingmikmik]

: the smile afterlogues :

Here I am, back in this fluorescent light anonymous suburb house world and, you are here. Boy I barely know, intimately know, doesn't really know me. And suddenly our small novella ends before we realize we were in the last chapter, characters lost in their dialogue--unraveling. We were getting lost, static; you always say what you really mean without saying anything at all and I waited to let you follow this thought for yourself. And we're okay. One day, I hope you're better than okay. However I'm not your real ending I'm just your flight of fancy, your temporary fantasy: I just became your okay and I don't want to be. And neither should you be mine. And so, love, goodbye.

[theflyingmikmik]

-tunes from a month ago, no. 2ish-

These sleep-shattered spaces of the mind form broken lines of you and I.

[theflyingmikmik]

-tunes from a month ago, no. 1-

Back in the nether-verse, the ether-framed form of defining feeling, concrete mirror-dreaming. Hey soul, could you tell me what you mean? Hold up a pane of glass for me. I'm trying to find my feeling. Stop this robot-girl, lostgirl, awful girl who's taken my name. Changeling fey, I want back my face.

[december]

[theflyingmikmik]

: inked in double red :

Walking blissed out and carrying all these doubts in my mouth and in my head. I'm my own walking dead; swooping vision motor skills twisted, exhaustion's got me falling out of my own time into sense of another kind, into faulted rhymes: my mind's on fire.

[theflyingmikmik]

: a letter: november #1 :

I went to bed with "Dear God"s on my tongue, sitting heavy in my mouth, thickening the air with longing.

[theflyingmikmik]

: flicker, mind. flicker, time : -experimental lines-

Cast the bright lights aside. The stretched seconds, the sinking into your mattress, the effortful acts of day-to-day. What is this lived time but a moment's shadow one day, a moment's hope the next? Tell me, in the time it takes to go from one footfall to the next what do you think about? All these synapses flickering with scenes, with dreams. Sometimes it's hard to let them breathe, isn't it? But if you let them breathe...Oh, if you let them breathe... What would they become, you know what I mean? Would they unfold from your bones and take shape of their own. Maybe undo this ribbon from your tongue or simply cut out your lungs. What's it like to be honest with yourself?

[theflyingmikmik]

: sad | notes | sound :

Last night I couldn't even continue a tune. I sat under the vivid, blaring light and faltered. I think I'm choking on my own sorrow; notes turn to ash under my fingers, in my mouth. And I want to wake up. To push out of the nether-folds and step into sound, any sound. I want to wake.

[theflyingmikmik]

: fleet, flight, fancy, fool :

You come on too strong. In this (suddenly) nightmarish afternoon of bright grey light, anime shows, and lavender walls. You touch my arm too much. Hungry fingers trace my skin and two seconds in I wanted the possible us to end where it never really began. I didn't conclude to this scene. I didn't know you. Can I, the fool, take back the stolen touch? Cut wisdom from it's perch and tape it's knowledge to the insides of my lids, my tongue- so I can know where I went wrong? So I can know, what you really wanted.

[theflyingmikmik]

: small notes, hidden rote :

[and I've been choking on this shallow silence, building walls to slam my palms against and I don't know how to stop. in this space I suddenly feel surrounded, claustrophobia built of anxious mind spending too much time in isolation of the modern kind.]

[theflyingmikmik]

: mad mall misadventures, take #2 :

Today I used these fleet feet to cut desperate paths through a mecca mall maze of locked escalators, walled-off floors, and the claustrophobic yellow glow of empty underground parking, like a realm straight out of a B-movie apocalypse, to bust through the automatic doors of 21st century consumer convenience with 15 minutes till closing to spare so I could satisfy the craving, racing hungers fueling this stubborn quest for food glories. Oh, what one will do for dumplings.

[theflyingmikmik]

: post-script :

Suddenly in the middle of a bright-lit coffee shop at 1 a.m. I'm hit with the sharp spark of tears when the words of deep want spill off my tongue. It's the moment of letting realization become tangible, letting the deep-seated dreams of heart-stuff step out of their dusty paper box in the simple corner of subconscious--step out and become concretely alive.