Writer's Block -- Attempt 4 (4/21/o5_)

cool chewing tactics not
meant forred beasts
a compromise made shifty ghosts,
in and out of wall boards,
the hall
-boards are vacant like the
little crevice in my bra,
al-
ways unsnapping and letting soft
globe
go rub
against black cottonfields

he sees you, smoldering your fingers
between
them sits
a thin Capri, oh, cancer-sticks
delicious brown seeping ash
a core that wants to be but isn't
and never
unless you become one
and it empregnates the lungs
beautiful bastard, jewel-white smoke and shiny mouthpiece.
for an armed baby.
hurt me tenderly in the waning moonlight, scamper
tauntingly,
his eyes become saucers at
notice
of
your sexy death.

Where is my mind?

all my feelings right now, as my thoughts are exactly

i screwedup
bangupjob
goodwork
royalscrewjob
screwup
screwdriver
i am no game
where is my mind
where,
is my mind
i...swimming in the carribbean
lukeskywalker
paradise-free
now with more lemons!
collateral
his hair is yellow
like turpentine
only turpentine is not yellow
catch my drift?
cart-drifting in the local kroger
why do i love drug stores
dear sweet merciful crap
crying into the pillow
so what if you didnt make the cheerleading squad
youve got catherine zeta-jones right
in front of you
so many cans
i outta make a robot
just like peggy on king of the hill
ever watch that show?
it's 8:57.
where is my mind?
where,
is my mind
pixies
pixie dust the color of sandpaper
pink rust
diseased couches aching in alleyways
a beautiful brown,
antique green
shady comfort goose down soft
can i touch his hands?
what will i wear...yeah, yeah.
where is my mind?


---

Writer's Block -- Attempt 1 (4/18/o5_)

crisp white
blouse, with all the right buttons.
soft beard, red lips.
we drink coffee til
our packs are gone.
drug-crazy bonanza.
cruella, mixhazard.
perfect at last.
mix breasts.
Mizuhaiku.
water poem?
Delve into these glassy
depths.

a touch that burns like a
witch's oils,
concocted,
simmer, thin jade in the pot,
glittering; porcelain gods can't
do you no good

it's the dry amber in your throat,
the menthol perfume, and such
pink nails,
gossmer and shallow.
wine and swallow.

---crippled mountain of stolen words,---
--not plagarism, fucker, the---
-----taking---------
----------of words------
-----literal, acidish yellow--------------
----------------legal pads with strike-outs.---

she opens a book only to close it
tonight, dust and stars go hand-in-hand
like wires behind the desk

like wires behind the desk

and a red crystal spoon to feed us
atrocitiesandclankingshudder boards
peeling paint the color of old rain
notes that were folded
back so, they tear in the creases

ever scrawl on purple?

i do.


shaved heads and plump thighs,
muscle and shiny dark hair, -/
stampinkwipe
kissmove straddlebeanbagmeltmelt,slamdoor
rolling pin,yellow again.

And when it all comes out distorted, I can only push pedals into thin dying embers, green leaves sprawling like crepe against these creamy moon-spotted shoulders. Tighten grip and squeeze liquid from eyelash corners; an all-knowing pinata hanging low at the base of the cerebral cortex, waiting for a fatal blow, where innerds go spewing satisfactory.
To touch the flesh of a certain exterior would be...a nebulous activity...haywire, dizzy, dreamy. I imagine faint curtains sputtering quick to chase night-stars from a blackening horizon, and your hard fingers slip through red silk.
Connotation.
Intrigue.
Don't put the light on, I only want a spark, a crystal shard glowing juxtaposition with white.
mass-produce words. Chew an earlobe.
Tangled between the palms, a c-shaped thigh, and little pearl earrings.
Luscious beneath black.
Comb your nails on someone's back.
Hotel sanctuary. Keep me. Closer.
Don't swallow whole and then spit up pieces.
I want.
Originality....if that is the proper word to use...
Is this the start?
I jump to conclusions.

I'll dive next.

---

what's in it for me

no worries anymore.

today has been the biggest relief/payoff for slave-labor work.

i'm just lucky, but i don't care, i've got things in order. finally