Soap profile picture

Soap

And when everything should be quiet your fire fights to burn a river of sleep. Why should the breath

About Me



My Interests

I'd like to meet:



"Consider: the darkening ease, the brightening trouble; the pleasure pleasure because it was, the pain pain because it shall be; the glad acts grown proud, the proud acts growing stubborn; the panting and trembling towards a being gone, a being to come; and the true true no longer, and the false true not yet. And to decide not to smile after all, sitting in the shade, hearing the cicadas, wishing it were night, wishing it were morning, saying, No, it is not the heart, no, it is not the liver, no, it is not the prostate, no, it is not the ovaries, no, it is muscular, it is nervous."-Watt

My Blog

Txidrme

SomnambulistYou look pallid she says, and her dream lens blinks to capture this shuttering thing, this unstruck, unhappening being of unrest that does not dream that becomes less and less among blea...
Posted by on Mon, 05 Oct 2009 17:28:00 GMT

Tin Hats

She is being followed by those periwinkle thoughts that bloom near to dawn. Those anxious, sprouting thoughts that sprig up and poke at her during the freshest hours of the morning.  When the rooftops...
Posted by on Thu, 02 Jul 2009 19:57:00 GMT

Long walk

How many of my days does the path ahead anticipate? For these furtive glances backward have revealed my own unraveling. And so I wonder at what point in the dark wood of my history had my stitching be...
Posted by on Fri, 06 Feb 2009 12:59:00 GMT

If only it were simple

We've dropped out now. The fog slumps in wearily. We brace ourselves with tea and chatter. We speak well of each other and harvest our best intentions. The for coming days will fill us with a love for...
Posted by on Fri, 31 Oct 2008 09:35:00 GMT

?

She witnessed herself in the damp reflection of nights window. Smoking her insides out just to watch them get sucked into the blank yellow night-light of 4 a.m. All that fuming funneled through a cra...
Posted by on Wed, 07 May 2008 01:29:00 GMT

Widows Window.

When you wake up in wet cement and have a mere teardrops worth of hope on your nightstand progress seems inconceivable. I often find myself sitting on the cliff-side of my bed pondering socks. Hypnoti...
Posted by on Mon, 05 May 2008 10:08:00 GMT

Carver

There's this bird carved out of sheet metal. It hangs from the second story window that pokes out of the rare brick building that lives on a very tragic street corner. Certainty won't invite me to any...
Posted by on Tue, 08 Apr 2008 20:55:00 GMT

Daylight = Graylight.

We were sitting Indian style on the roof discussing Nature Vs. Nurture and then Alien Vs. Predator. There were so many rain drops that the words were drowning between us. We couldn't really see the la...
Posted by on Thu, 03 Apr 2008 14:37:00 GMT

Locean

Once upon a time I lived in East Oakland. 45th and San Leandro.You could hear the banshee wail of the bart train and the incessant traffic that lived outside our window.  On bad days I would lay ...
Posted by on Sat, 23 Feb 2008 19:09:00 GMT

Early.

   This is a story about a plumb lipped boy named Malachi Sabastion Heald. When Malachi fell from his mothers womb he giggled a thousand giggles. Even after they slapped his tiny pink ass an...
Posted by on Sat, 23 Feb 2008 15:27:00 GMT