December 20th, 2005 2:09 pm im in the black, cant see or be seen. [ ] [ mood | amused ] when i was all messed up, and i had opera in my head ( your love was a lightbulb hangin over my head... ) 1 postcard | drop me a note?

December 14th, 2005 12:06 am [forty.seven] [this is not a recent composition] [ ] leaves curl, brittle papery auburn and crimson, and tumble silently down my curving spine. brush dark glances like charred wind across my shoulders, laughter skittering across thoughts with a soundtrack on mute, playing with your shadow. shy to the touch, strike with something carnal as the scent of your neck catches in my throat. catch my lips with yours, catch my waist with strong hands and press me down into the glistening light as i drag my fingers across the heavens, ripping down the sky to cover our ravenous lust. we are the dead, we are the dead, Tonight We Are The Dead because this is Alive and our words seethe, snapping about tangled limbs. crushed between you and the night, our mouths fastened together, hips rolling. take me. 1 postcard | drop me a note?

November 27th, 2005 3:15 pm [forty.six] [ ] [ mood | restless ] [ music | panic! at the disco ] the prancing cabaret piano tumbles staccato over my quietly pulsing wrists. the sun strikes my flitting eyes, breathing steam as your slender ribs and violin shoulders slip through my thoughts, a sultry and anxious camera pan across freckles which i have caressed with tender carnality. strike up the band! your caramel angles and curves flicker between phantom kisses, my heartbeat the kick drum and nerves crashing, cymbalic neural pulses. the brass section drags curling notes through my hair, i cannot help ducking behind forearms raised as pillars against wrenching melodic strings wrapping themselves around my insides. writhe... restless, draw in a seething breath through my teeth. oh, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy. 2 postcards | drop me a note?

October 30th, 2005 10:59 am [forty.five] [ ] [ mood | pleased ] ( infrared pictures- ashley, 2004 ) 2 postcards | drop me a note?

October 23rd, 2005 9:41 pm [forty.four] [ ] [ mood | thoughtful ] it has been a long time since i walked here, i whispered. and you smiled, with your cruel beautiful mouth. the moon threw her light upon your face, and this time i found your name folded up in my pocket. it crashed through my thoughts, violent echoes of something momentous dropped onto the desert floor, sending the sand cascading up in glittering sheets like puddles, or sorrows. that night, the sky gleamed with fresh paint, and some of it stuck. but your eyes had iced over and you seemed not to notice. i wondered if you would ever learn. the moon and i exchanged furtive glances, but you missed it, again. you never knew when to look up. so, empty, i leaned into the night and laughed at nothing funny as our shoes scuffed on the endless pavement, bruising the silence. it was autumn, and glacial in the desert night as the wind keened between my outstretched fingers. you dont have to walk so fast, i said, listening to your footsteps behind me. i love you, was your reply. 3 postcards | drop me a note?

October 16th, 2005 11:35 pm [forty.three] [ ] [ mood | lonely ] 2 postcards | drop me a note?

September 27th, 2005 1:13 pm i need a model so i can stop using myself. [ ] [ mood | amused ] ( light series II ) 4 postcards | drop me a note?

September 14th, 2005 11:20 am [forty] [ ] [ mood | indescribable ] [ music | u2- october ] your words make me stretch and turn myself upside out, purring small soft moans. autumn, all cinnamon and caramel heat, has crept from the burnished sky and curled itself, catlike, about my crumpled pillow. whereupon i draw my pale knees up together, my thoughts curled about yourself. burrow beneath this warmth and kiss me, lips and tongue of charred wind. autumn wind, like the fingers of a lover trailed up my spine and along my throat. my paper pulse sings a gentle song as i kiss your exquisite eyelids of fallen leaves and dusky shoulders. bask in the thick bright silence, as the light tide washes over the heavens and laugh. quiet and clothed only in satin skin. 2 postcards | drop me a note?

August 6th, 2005 7:06 pm crosshatch. [thirty.nine] [ ] [ mood | awake ] [ music | drum & bass di.fm ] and all that jazz. 6 postcards | drop me a note?

July 23rd, 2005 7:48 pm [thirty.eight] [ ] [ mood | indescribable ] [ music | u2- with or without you ] lush violinsong, a sinuous thrill traveling down your occasionally freckled spine, where i brush fingers like paintbrushes of soft joyful laughter, pantless, which melts to fill our palms. your shoulders, fragile and immortal, immense with a dusting of midnight and vanilla. breathe in the acrid sweet scent of sex, the birthsmell of Us from you and i, seeping into sheets not quite ours. you were autumn, pressed hard and beautiful against me, a season of touch and tumble, a bright lithe sigh. wide ribs curving under my wondering kisses, the wings of dream pressing out from your bravely fragile heartbeat. bend your dim slenderness over my hopefear and kiss with your pale parted lips. three years of longing for four nights of loving for an everlong of dreaming, Us. each word a bright curl of winged ink upon the wind and i chase them with jars of paper, their lights flickering faintly in my cupped hands. twist your legs in mine, a tangle of liquid poetry and deep tender rain kisses, salty sweet skin and this, this is Beautiful. this is Love. this is Alive. drop me a note?

July 13th, 2005 8:36 pm a few photoshop wanderings. [ ] [ mood | artistic ] [ music | random ] ( above image, larger, +1 ) 8 postcards | drop me a note?

July 5th, 2005 8:47 pm [thirty.seven] [ ] [ mood | restless ] [ music | live 8 ] 2:15 on a musty June afternoon and i miss the rain. not listless California sprinkles but deep, rich, ominous thunder-snarling torrential rain. with thumbprint raindrops that plunge from the bruised sky, and quiet puddles erupt into glass tiaras but melt in the lush cold. in the rain, we become a city of crisp black umbrellas, glossy curves of pitch bubbles. somewhere, a windswept blond child with translucent white cheeks and soft sapphire eyes dips her wand into the ink and blows a cloud of umbrellas across her white dress, onto the keen rumbling air. they drift down between crosshatched skyscraper sketches, into the rainslicked alleys and vast gorges to land upn the shoulders of suit-and-tie stencil silhouettes. and just beyond the tips of their shoes, the traffic rips through sheets of rain with great heaving gushes. rain to paint the city, lacquer the streets in vivid acrylic and oils. the wind shifts and everything breathes. the storm scent, sharp like straining, like stretching, sharp like a question, lances of liquid silver, piercing the city scaffolding in bright glorious streaks. the gutters poured out into your eyes, where the water collected and now glistens, opalescent. drop me a note?

July 5th, 2005 8:04 pm [thirty.six] [ ] [ mood | artistic ] [ music | live 8 ] tell you a secret. secret like a saffron daisy petal caught sparkling in a dawn spiderweb. i always believed in us. i thought we had whisper love, sort of quiet sharp and sweetly harsh. love of the sort to wander together down the street, caramel dusk streaming between our skinny ankles. of the kind especially vivid when you pause to breathe and the city wraps a thin dark film of rumbles and shrieks about you. the nameless kind of love. sometimes you can find it between crumbling precious pages of only the most ancient volumes in the corner of tiny bookstores, like someone saved it there with fond memories and forgot to return for it. love like a piece of fresh paper, without words and delicious that way, blank, white... you were laughter, brindled honest eyes and a smile trying to be bright behind a memory of shy? a question, your long fingers, fumbling for mine. finding them like a warm bed after the bump in the night. like a lost crayon, or a dream hiding behind the sun haze. and Us was immense happiness especially the curled plume of attic-light, or perhaps flickering paper wings of a tender song, or perhaps the gentle thrill, of your sincere kiss. i remember your angel shoulders, lightly freckled. your heat, threading through me deep as truth, pure as rain. so let's the two of us trap a handful of soft feather twilight between our palms and kiss, just once more, please... if only in honor of the forgotten. 4 postcards | drop me a note?

May 26th, 2005 12:04 am [thirty.five] [an open letter to] [ ] [ mood | artistic ] [ music | reggie gibson- spoken word ] ah, dear child of bittersweet eyes and chocolate hair, silk-skinned creature of tragic laughter beautiful like a bleached white skeleton of a bird. ahh... haha laugh again and i grit my teeth because i hear your soul in the sound. but there is no time. i am afraid-- that perhaps you believe our strained speech strung out upon the sun-lances of noon, exchanged between restless glances and unnecessary courtesy questions forged a fragile alliance between us, perhaps you think the steel-points of this love-triangle have blunted. and doubt me not, i gladly clasp the hand you extend in friendship, but child, oh child, i hope you do not think this has changed things. because i signed no treaty with gold-nibbed quill-pen rich dark ink and paper of cream i did not even scribble a few words on crumpled gritty gutter paper with a broken yellow pencil across cobalt lines bleeding from the rain. and simply, i cannot. now it is not because i do not appreciate your efforts. no no, nothing like that. girl, you've got pitbull guts, youve got im not sure its passion but something like it all packed up in you and i appreciate that. but i made no promises. because this... this... this is glistening satin ribbons of highway trailed over vast basins of swirling shadows and crushed stars, set between monolith mountains rising from the desert, the old gods draped in darkness. this is glorious rain sheeting pure clean liquid light from a thousand angel wings onto my uplifted face. this is violin song, slender magnificent keening ripping through the chaotic dawn, soaring scarlet to curl like mahogany steam against the sky-vault, plummeting tender and luscious to the deepest pool of forgotten dreams. this. is. euphoria. can you, in the corner of yourself not scarred by the betrayal of torturous existence, understand that? this immensity of yes has enveloped me further than all the languages of the earth could color my words. this is more than give, more than give and flesh and moon and virgin breathe dance twilight silence soul, more than soul, more than even soul. so. you see, i cannot give you what you wish for, this alliance, my word that i will keep a distance-not my distance, for that distance certainly, certainly is not mine- i cannot give it to you. because. of. love. drop me a note?

May 17th, 2005 2:08 pm [thirty.four] [ ] [ mood | artistic ] [ music | bjork-sun in my mouth (e.e.cummings!!) ] ( last night my hands took portraits of each other ) 3 postcards | drop me a note?

May 9th, 2005 9:07 am [thirty.three] [ ] [ mood | creative ] [ music | u2 ] ( black and white and brown ) 1 postcard | drop me a note?

May 8th, 2005 4:34 pm [thirty.two] [ ] [ mood | restless ] [ music | u2- the fly ] red. scalding heat hissing across my skin from the scarlet sucking kisses you devour me with, daemon child with freckled wolf-shoulders and carnivorous eyes. laugh and it sings in my veins like charred glass, the lust scouring my insides and searing my throat. fling your head back and we are thrust into the roiling darkness, a knot of limbs-lips-tongue-teeth and the writhing column of your body shoving me back, down, take me, blood me, lover and midnight child, glorious thudding white pulse beneath your flesh and i want to push, want to kiss, want to bite lick snarl shove scream! the night seething like bruised velvet snapping against your spine and the acid rain thunders down into these gritty alleys in the city of angels, where we thrust against each other in carnal hunger. i want to fuck you, ravage you, vicious deep beautiful fuck, let me consume your final raging thoughts. you are chocolate and caramel and blood, ravaged cities and desert storms. you are silken violence, keening violin crescendos in the apocalypse. groan from deep within and let the cruel thrill roll through you from my mouth on your freckled skin. shudder. yours is brilliant agony. yours is the perfect torture. red. drop me a note?

May 3rd, 2005 11:39 pm [thirty.one] [ ] [ mood | contemplative ] [ music | bjork ] back alleys in rich shades of carmine rust and lead and laughter gone cold. you left it sitting out too long, i told you. i warned you. the steel here warms my smile but not my soul, paint-slicked glossy bricks chipping at the edges like my mind, all chipped scratched torn and crumbling. i cant seem to think straight. look, glass monuments in my city, and the wind is diluted here. where have you gone? where have i gone, where and wherefore, charming gentleman? soulless words painted and slightly jostled to tumble from my thoughts like rain from thick dark skies. where has my quicksilver rain gone? i can taste it in the skyscrapers' breathing, it scrapes my lungs sharp and clean. too quiet for you? cup your hands and wish for a dream to be born between your pale cold fingers, like a flickering illusion coaxed, wispy and drifting, from the cracks in the stained concrete. these high bright sounds tremble against the walls, their shadows dirty and fear-deep. will you be painting the gutters around the next corner? painting with dried hope ground up and mixed with your tears and blood... let me suggest using some bitter memories and desaturated whispers to add a spot of color. how wonderfully drab. your mournful eyes are jaded not blue but black in this light-washed afternoon, the mist creeping in to leave just the two of us beneath looming cathedrals, smudged. please hold my hand, slender and white, and lets walk down the deserted streets to find the train tracks scrawled noisy and crashing to the end of the story. step between the ties, our sneakered feet crunching the gravel in small delicious sounds. can i kiss you? ive been stepping in these watercolor puddles on the streets far too long. i remember what it was that i couldnt say to you, but i am restless and taciturn. pick up a rain-streaked and wrinkled poster for tragedy at the theatre. now wouldnt that be nice. blurry, are we? 2 postcards | drop me a note?

April 27th, 2005 10:02 am [thirty] [ ] [ mood | indescribable ] [ music | u2- bullet the blue sky ] blue eyes, i remember. scorched desert morning sky blue, vast open road under endless painted white dashes blue, roll down the windows to let our laughter out and the wind in blue, sweet rain on the window under roiling dark sky blue, dripping watercolor on crumbling paper blue, flickering subway lights grip tightly on the metal poles and sway blue, screaming white bullet blue, midnight wandering neon blue, bleached peeling sky blue, quiet smile blue. i remember. 1 postcard | drop me a note?

April 18th, 2005 12:58 pm [twenty.nine] [ ] [ mood | terribly, deliciously lustful ] [ music | thick silence ] steel skies scratched like grey athenian eyes and your whispers cling to my coat lapels. i miss the glorious rain today. the heavens are tense as i am tense, stretched, waiting, silently screaming for the rain. i am waiting for the rain, a gasoline child drenched in the alley, strike a match and ill send shards of sanity thudding into these wooden fences. vitriolic skies. i am reaching for the shadows to kiss... i need the heat of the glacial rain. this is endless torment, leaden windows and darkness. drop me a note?

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