caesarc1990

caesarc1990

This user account status is Approved

I think I do this if only for a distraction diversion from my real heaviest of things-- I should not be here, writing, but I do it. I stack stones to weigh against my problems the stones are round, and vary.

smog

go heavy, hang there-- impatient dear dear pollution of mine.

Let your clothes fall, I'll applaud, let eyes linger under waterfalls, peppertrees-- rock bark skin hair teeth gnash argue argue argue.

Take this golden hold, hoard away let things pile, creep up the walls and bloom like grey mold, but dealer, fuller, waiting like a spore that smells deceptive, and sweet, like old friends, like smiles, like years, like an empty chair

Lend. A hand, an ear. Two enormous things which don't require surgery.

blaze

it started out low and whipped back leading us to believe we were in control and promptly proclaiming otherwise with a steady flicker of chimney red.

There was a string of text sectioned off in the suspended liquid of the air, spelling out the weather for the weekend in a small town through the blurred yellow windows of an evening train.

There rested a small beehive in he upper right corner of the Bailey shack. all the stones we threw could not relinquish the grip it had on the place. The small tongues of flame slid upward towards the ceiling as if they were trying to taste the honey it held.

ant

An atomic thing, at first attaining anteroom, antique, anthropology, anticipation... A creature by itself powerless, but a creature in a mob, a sentence.

There are two people, There are 50 states. There is one state of mind between them. There is a certain emptiness between them, as smiles flicker like pitched cigarettes ashed out car windows like wild and loose justifiers.