the mosquito |
The ever present buzz of life. Not a life of perpetual questioning, ignorance or even love. This is a life of living a continuous jolt of one memory then the next. He moves on, his only thought: feed ...
Posted by on Tue, 03 Jul 2007 04:21:00 GMT |
where forgotten memories move like sad ships |
I sit for this one time in my cold flashing heart where forgotten memories move like sad ships.Why is it that everywhere I go I don't feel at home: every school I went to I didn't feel apart of, every...
Posted by on Sat, 30 Jun 2007 20:21:00 GMT |
while the clouds whispered the self conscious earth thought |
i came down with a can of coke.while the clouds whispered the self conscious earth thought.i drove, the intent of my destination a thing of the future: a low headland; water licking everything; the ro...
Posted by on Mon, 28 May 2007 14:40:00 GMT |
the colour of emotion |
The Colour of EmotionThe isolation of thought encapsulated in the eye of emotionredblue the languid movements of crowdlicking like fireflowing like a riverthe insular motion of the individualbecoming ...
Posted by on Mon, 07 May 2007 05:20:00 GMT |
waiting |
Waiting: the static motion of time's solitudeWaiting is a transient space of rapid emotionwhere anything can be conceived where the memory has been externalisedwhere the sweep of stasis encompasses al...
Posted by on Mon, 07 May 2007 05:19:00 GMT |
reverie |
reverie Stuck in reverie is the ideal to seea sight between timewhere one catches a moment distilled in memorya memory of insular whispers that can only be heard by the thought of the individual. Alth...
Posted by on Mon, 07 May 2007 05:19:00 GMT |
the button |
the buttonThe soft touch of expectancy: more beautiful each time. The saliva of the lovers' still rests upon the others'. A connection of sorts occurred; knowledge attained but another lost like water...
Posted by on Mon, 07 May 2007 05:13:00 GMT |
time's memory |
Time's memoryWhat do you see?Do you see yourself?Do you see me?I do. hidden within the lights of timeI see myself.In the hand of the older selfupon the chin of the motherin the sundered tear of the ot...
Posted by on Mon, 07 May 2007 05:11:00 GMT |
tree house |
They were born in the house of fire. It could not breathe but it could talk. The house whispered the flooded experience of life instilled within. The house did not hold the same capabilities as human ...
Posted by on Mon, 07 May 2007 05:11:00 GMT |
with complete dejection i realised the error of my ways |
I was at a brisk pace. Nipping at her heels. Following not just out of the needs of myself but possibly others.I was trying to dissuade her of her 'duties'. Trying to persuade her.Telling of how I was...
Posted by on Mon, 07 May 2007 05:09:00 GMT |
