Sunday, 28 March 2010

inspiration -muted-

pick your reasons

elias Tahan

marlene Marino

aaron Feaver

hrystia Kaminska

emilie Muller

flora Hanitijo

hrystia Kaminska

wai lin Tse

there's something in my throat i can't swallow

  two is over.   i want three to be how i want it to be   ('re left with this feeling that it happened, it's gone, and it meant [nothing]
  even though you thought it would mean something...)   [nothing] is the wrong word; i'm left with an inadequate taste in my mouth  

Thursday, 25 March 2010


i was thinking about treetops, high places. doves don’t perch there do they, they’re ground birds

did we make them that way, us with our pitchforks, cement pathways our crumbs?

...high places

i was wondering if you’re scared of heights, if so, how much? would you jump out of a plane [with me]?

do you prefer sweet or salty or spicy? if you had to only feel one texture what would it be?

my linear questions are predictable in the way that D means drive and daisy is yellow

why do we still have neutral in cars anyways? i don’t know what it’s used for…coasting down hills? it’s fun


we could look at each others eyes for minutes, flickering focus

‘n i feel as though i’m falling in a hole

traps set out by my mind and
i’m setting myself up to fall with overthinking panic

if the world was muted, could we live in it

lets go barefoot on sandless beaches

perch in treetops because there the highest places around

lets think of encompassing delight, because I am no longer the one who can give the light

i am the girl who bites her lip when you’re on the airwaves, the one who beams when you write to me, the one who is memorizing you, the one who is scared to show her weaknesses

i want to do everything with you
in treetops

in high places; let's see how trivial it is,
how much we live in this moment is our doing          our pleasure

Monday, 22 March 2010

acute triangles

we are supplementary

i am worth it

Wednesday, 17 March 2010

Chilled Euphoria



Wednesday, 10 March 2010

i'm a secret

My tongue, stained purple, slips past

your sugar-slick teeth

residue covered chins, intrude

sticky, excited fingers, hesitate.

Your breath is orange

sweet vanquishing tang

our mouths, left-over chill

numbed taste buds.

The sticks fall, disregarded

eyes glazed with glucose

coated in popsicle love.

Tuesday, 9 March 2010

Open Heart Surgery

i was proud                  and                       i missed you                     and                  i hung out with them.

i did it [illegally],
i liked it 
 i felt full.