---i'm a bad mothafucka
from grease.
Newest
untitledrender the eyeline to see in the white lye falls downward silkspun and 'member the water kite pulls on the sunskin, undress me myself, I knew I've known unknown things falls down the river lye: pieces of blue jean come back as the things we had touched drying by the loom rack, I must've reached further we quilt them with sticks make the water kites'n fly them.untitled
by ~terrifyingblackcloud
baby, chop chopI am not in love with you anymore.baby, chop chop
I love you, but barely at all, barely out of the remembrance that, earlier, I loved you.
it is hard to be beside you as being beside you is like standing above a redwood tree whose wild red furs are in several places, an inch from my feet.
and as a bit of wind winds through the present scarcity of your cucumber leaves, you rustle by me, giving back the obsidian blade that I gave you in the summer, telling me to wear it as a necklace.
by ~terrifyingblackcloud
mittenslet's pretend, as we sit by the diner that our eyes are our mouths our hands are our mouths and they all know all about other mouths,mittens
let's talk about the building across the street, and the metropolitan trim of steam hurrying from its red brick walls pushing past the other steam as if it has a dentist's appointment at four o'clock.
by ~terrifyingblackcloud
white stringlet's follow down the well the little moth of paperwhite string
a string from my index fingers to the antennae of the moth
I'll've fallen past the paper moth, past the forty-fifth brick and the forty-fourth and the moth will catch us
my sleeve in its mouth
the string fall'n soft, caught in the loft
by ~terrifyingblackcloud
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