Two songs from my new project.
the heat felt like the gaze of a future lover. Synthetic hair on the grass beside the sidewalk like foreign flowers, or crows if the ground were the sky. Many coos meant for me, so I grew a smile as my ego was fattened for the kill; a bloodhungry tick ready to explode. I mailed packages of soaps and poems to people I adore and I continued to walk home. Soon the execution, but I am not fearful, for I know everyone is beautiful and I am a just a reflection.
We held hands while walking home,
forgoing another to drink to your birth,
whiskey and ginger ale
in a silver cup you made.
I am too rough for nice clothes;
wrestling in your kitchen I got a bloody nose
and you noted in the morning, remembering
the night before, how
excited I was to
let it bleed
all over your floor.
Ruining a shirt, rushing to the bathroom you
met me there with a warm washcloth and
held it up to the crimson current,
I sat on the radiator, facing the mirror,
surprised to feel you
catching me.
Ropes around my arms and feet,
struggling in the best way, spitting blood
and saliva at your face. Revealing you knew
my twine and sanguine tendencies.
You said,
I can’t believe I’ve tamed you.
Still, I know
I am at the hands of my desire
and you are letting me be.
Months earlier you told me, meeting on those steps, sharing
your leftovers, “People need you, Cat. I need you.”
In the morning I whispered, “Happy birthday,” we glowed
at the naturalness of the night. You told me that
to touch something as soft as my body
before working with rough metals felt divine.
I kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips,
then you watched me dress.
I stepped out the backdoor into
the misty haze of a warm 5am.
Walking home, humming, with a blouse
blood-speckled and craving cleansing waters.
Happy to have come together
and happy to now be
alone.
looking up where the suns light hit the side of a cloud golden brown or tawny like a sand dune there i saw you all the rise and falls like the wind moving grains into the mound of your hips your chest your head and there i wished to bury myself knowing very well it is not your body or the desert although beautiful but just the sky and so removing myself from where i was looking and reminding myself not to take that cloud and see the sand not to perceive the sand and want your body but to see a cloud and see a cloud to see a cloud and know the sky and to love you your body and the sky and the sand dunes and myself
You all should really check out my friend Jeff’s amazing blog.
OPEN YOUR (THIRD) EYES TO OUR PROPHET HELIOS <3
What is this from.
It’s from The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao
Someone else said this was from the original Clash of the Titans! Which is it!
No way! The satyr in the original Clash of the Titans was no where near as handsome. It’s for sure from The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao.
(Source: satyrbrothers)
Tattoo night at Long Arm Farm! Hangin’ with my buddies on their beautiful land, they let me use their tattoo machine (my first time using one, mind you) and I did a piece on Cullen and one on myself.
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but i
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cant be
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sure.
mastering the endless sorry almost drowning to hear your voice and constantly clambering up the side of your highest peak knowing i am the one that will reach the forest at the summit and in silence oysterless joy breathing the ways that i might devour you thinking of how you might love me in a wild blaze to let me be kind to you kindle and find the mossy ground and moonlit spot every other feared to enter for the dark and these embers will end not i know it but still i scrap the walls of the lighthouse i am inside seeking something knowing it is all darkness if i am the only light shining outwards and you are somewhere you see me i know it but i wonder how long it will be before you climb the steps and feel me and there is a dog at our heels and when you turn around to look it stares back at you fixated as if to say “stare at the one you love for 3 minutes straight each day and soon you will know the face of god i know it” and so for the absence i find a mirror and then my heart explodes into innumerable newborns and i soften at my core to dream of tears at the unfolding of a strange landscape bloodboiling and surging till i recall the heat I’ve been holding and call it love shaking as the lamplight wanes floored by the beauty knowing broken words and failing actions words are thumbs of thought and so i reach and grope at objects bringing me to my knees and so flexible the void is in every lake at midnight the moon is the light at the end of the journey i know it voice accompanies the death of silence i am dying to be that stare and avoiding want still cannot waiting to be shown should my visions collapse at the scent of our power striking finally found a match beautiful and terrifying lovely and devastating you who says softly when i feel your in your hand a heartbeat like a baby mouse hearing from the inside out when it tiptoes into my chest sweet you i do not wish to surround i do not wish to crash or drown yes my waters are deep and wide but all i wish to do is float you
eating oranges to stay alive in your inner landscape where the sun has packed its bags and left you are filled and surrounded by so manny pungent peels so perhaps you will attract the light. the smell travels through the house and outside and teleports miles away into her room and you know because you hear the phone ring but let the machine get it. beep and “try a goddamn banana.”
my friend, since you asked anonymously i don’t know how to properly respond to you- but i hope you check back here soon. oh, i wish i knew who you were!
That song is called We Still Believe (In Life On Mars) and
http://www.soundcloud.com/stardustjunkie
is my SoundCloud account page.
I’m so flattered, so so so flattered you know the verse.
“…that right-ward slant in your handwriting indicates a romantic nature. A heart that yearns. Be careful.”
DREAM: I was pulled into a store of walls lined with jars of herbs, tables of books and candles, bells ringing by the windows, the lady of the shop had us each pick out handfuls of colored beads and would string them into a bracelet for us to keep. The two of you wanted beads packed with prayers for luck and gifts coming your way, I thought “the only gift is to give” and picked as many colors as I could. Arranging them, I saw they might form the whole color spectrum, a rainbow wrapping around my wrist. My mother had poppy red lipstick on and I told her she looked beautiful, there reclining on the couch, smiling. Further into another building and warned about what was living in the basement, two went down and saw a group of forgotten children. The eldest, covered in dun-brown cloth, furs, and leather was strong and wild. He told us their struggle, their neglect that lead to complete personal abandon, and that they would soon rise up to meet the sun of our world. On his head weaved long black hair into three braids that curled upwards with flames, ever-burning, at their ends.
I found clove buds on the trail; dried flowers embedded into the ground like nails. Puddles pooled of molasses, thick and dark in place of dirt. Ginger pieces dotting the earth.
All in line, flaunting the fire of your
frame. Fox in the green-plains.
