I was reminded of all of you.

I was reminded of all of you. I hope all of you are in good places. I should have kept in touch. I went back and read through a lot of this. I don't know if I ever said it, the way many of you wrote pushed me to better myself. Holy fuck, was I crazy. I remember you all fondly.

Posted at 13:57 by painfully yearning

memories of a riptide

striving towards recollection,
all efforts are
the tug, tug,
of decades and

all efforts are



Posted at 12:47 by painfully yearning



i felt your whisper
sear through my memory.
a lack of forethought,
on my part
has left me crippled and burnt
because yesterday my screams were,
cackling and sorrowful- fucking everywhere;
when did tomorrow become today
and WHY was i only happy then

it's so fucking painful living in my yesterdays.


Posted at 22:36 by painfully yearning


the grass, bare
and queer
pad. The
moon alights
my thoughtless
silent moves.
We dance
our toes, wet
prints stamped,
on our

Posted at 11:20 by Hara_Kiri (Lynn)
(2) Comment  

bus ride, with sweater.

nobody really posts here anymore? i'm posting anyway, i liked this site a lot when it was alive.

bus ride, with sweater

if i wanted i would
skate on the ground in all
capital letters and        make
myself say the things i know i can say if i want to
but it's a matter of wanting to be that                      person who
can't take a left step without taking a right and
if i could i can i will
not be the toe i split on the bathtub rim
with the porcelain
a little brown from the old
or from my feet
it's hard to tell.
six inches twelve inches nine inches how far apart are the
tulips i don't know the names of flowers but i can shake
shake shake it shake it just like i can sit
on still, still it's something isn't it something isn't
something i can be                                 that person who
knows the dictionary and knows the right
face but i will never be a rockstar baby, rockstar's baby,
the phone rings too loud,
i'll turn it down.

Posted at 16:27 by joc_elyn

peace kids.

what what what are you
nervous are you
not or what what what are you
doing in the dark

we feel, often, very unimportant. we feel often like
the brothers on the hips
in a wave-against-rock. we feel often like a war
being lost, a plateau.

well jesus christ jesus christ jesus christ, dont you KNOW
there's no REWARD in repetition? don't you KNOW there's no
light if you cut all the cords? isn't it
just common sense
to think that power
is a source
of power, and if power is

i read the sports section.
i took a breath.
the crumpling of pages and the ink in my fingerprints,
police files on
the countertop and the
walls. ink in the fireplace. we need to find more
sources of energy i can bite i can bite down hard
on the ends of my lips and i can yell like
a girl should yell,
but what is that.

a girl should yell

if there is a something to make her and
not everything is a
premeditated sketch

what is COLOR without the yell, i am a raw throat and a
masking tape gag
reel without the humor. you feel it in your tonsils,
the ones they took out.
hanging in the empty back
of your mouth,
a red-tongued sack and a sleepy waist,
full and round and sour,
like my palms on the skin,
the wire in my back.

and what is that.
we have our mouths full of our hearts
so there's no room for food,
but we'll die of starvation before we swallow them down,
or let them digest,
sunk with stomach-acid in the pits of our feet,
stinking and yellow and green in our chests.

Posted at 16:08 by joc_elyn
(4) Comment  


Her eyes capture those upon she looks
They fall to their knees in awe to her overwhelming power
They plead at her feet to be set free.
She gives them the dark silence.

She's the queen among kings
Built to rule with mercy to none
Relentless in punishment
She awaits her calling

The peasants are at her need
She gets what she wants
When she wants it
To those, she is almighty
The goddess of destruction

Posted at 14:54 by Rez

love for beginners

fought off the memories tooth and nail, knuckles flattened on both fists, eyes closed and teeth clenched, fucking forced the feeling down into my soul, battered and brushed away the hope that someday I might be something better, maybe, maybe, maybe she might not remember the little whore in the corner, little whore crying in the corner;

wash yourself of blood, take off the gore and try not to see their faces, try not to smell their fear, hear their screams, and there's nothing i'm better at than making the beautiful cry

she's in me
she's in me
she's in me
she owns me

the transformation was slow and cautious, a stab here and a hammer there, but with time even the strongest things crumble; it's over now, got to move faster, god it's over us now, god it's over now; let it happen and forget it ever was, it might've been a dream and she was the best thing ever, she was the best thing ever, fucking aphrodite on a silver platter, and i'm fucking zues with my hate filled tongue, but now god likes to slide down my throat and i found a few more pieces of metal deeper inside me, so far inside me;

he's iron now, fucking hotter than the sun now, my god he's a monster now; chains down and fangs in, oh christ, look at the little whore now

she's in me
she's in me
she's in me
she stains me

he's gone now, so far gone now; he's gone now
so far gone now

(i came to replace him)

Posted at 01:05 by painfully yearning
(1) Comment  




I've got a nickel
no a dollar
no a dime
no something else that says i'm listening
at the door, at the crack,
in the knobs for something important that i can't get.
when your fingers are the sweaty bits
and your eyelids are the dry ones,
in the matching plaids and numbers
we are dancing when the night comes,
and this isn't something else that trots around and dies
cold, on the ground.
we are
soundless and i make the loudest
quiet cries. they echo off the tile.
in the dark i can't run,
but i can't say
what i mean
if we're not allowed to lie. ethics or
morals or
something or
whatever. it is. that you say. when you want. what you want.
so what, manipulation is
an art form
and i'm the one two three, the statue, the plaque,
the nobel-something-or-
it's not my interest.

i used to write in blue ink and now
now, now now i talk fast instead like there's
something else to be doing besides
recording recording recording
my own importance.

is this rich, is this done, if this is full enough
say so. i can't afford to spill or spell
something wrong,
and i've never been to such
a warm place
but i left at least
three quarters of my organs
there, all the same. and they're baking, baking, baking
in the sun, like cancer victims,
like little doomed
philosophies, sandy and done.

Posted at 18:16 by joc_elyn

elaborate tapestries

justified rape sits on his shoulders lingering like wings and a halo; broken wrist flips behind her to hold her tight, and the spine runs down his wrist, slithering like the snake she is; like the hope he has, she might just want to be with him some day in the future- but this disappointment is too much for a broken soul, too much for a hopeful heart

ask the victim who it was that linched him with a tapestry woven for love- woven for a world forgiving enough to let him whisper the darkest secrets she made him keep;

covered in blood and a thousand pieces
of all the fleeing romantics,
rome is falling, he's ten steps above it
impossible odds and indifferent eyes

he always remembers

Posted at 23:40 by painfully yearning

Next Page


<< December 2021 >>
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
 01 02 03 04
05 06 07 08 09 10 11
12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25
26 27 28 29 30 31

Contact Me

If you want to be updated on this weblog Enter your email here:

rss feed