ode à un garçon |
Your eyes were moonlight tractor beams-
hypnotic rocket ship machines pulling me into you.
Eyes are their only constant cover,
lovers hips and swollen lips, pretending to be loved.
We could be physica... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Mon, 07 Jul 2008 10:06:00 PST |
Altered Lies, Altered Love. |
It was in the march of the winter I turned seventeenThat I bought those pills I thought I would need. And I wrote a letter to my family. Said it's not your fault and you've been good to me, just latel... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Mon, 18 Feb 2008 09:28:00 PST |
love, actually. |
"...And I just sort of realized that the assortment of boys and friends that I've had in my life, aren't worth the dissapointment I've suffered through every single one. These fickle people I decide t... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Fri, 25 Jan 2008 09:07:00 PST |
a trip in four parts. |
1Molly had simply been watching TV in her apartment and Ivan had just scored some psychedelic mushrooms from some guy at the Frontier. So the occasion called for a last minute trip ... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Sat, 17 Nov 2007 02:07:00 PST |
second trip around. |
cart trucks - crack house - drunk ass - welfare checks - beat me wife - biker gangs - country settings - parties with dull children - juice face kids - kill them while you can. i promise it will hurt ... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Sat, 06 Oct 2007 02:16:00 PST |
game over. |
ink stained skies and worlds of piesthat summer my hair was always wet, and i wore shorts every dayin the mornings i would feel a hole in me so deep that the sun coming in through the blinds couldn't ... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Fri, 21 Sep 2007 04:16:00 PST |
in the blood surogate. |
The contrived intesections between him and her, her and him, him and him, her and her. All matters of a love we hear fair tales about, the fairest being that we must find the intersection ... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Thu, 19 Jul 2007 09:00:00 PST |
Ivan Livingston. |
Back then I cherished him, we all did, and he was forever on a pedestal above everything. He was above my family, my parents, and above all, my God. Everyone always knew he would be there ... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Fri, 04 May 2007 11:43:00 PST |
we're basically too hot to trot. |
When I first read this, I idly retorted with "it's because we're so hawt." I twinge that rape, alcoholism, and violence has become synonymous with the Native American culture. Clearly, things must cha... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Sun, 06 May 2007 03:17:00 PST |
the incoherency suits me. |
prelude
Here is Billy with a head full of hair
Thick like her father's;
What a smile
three years in Aztec
the air is thick yellow heat
S... Posted by beth is secondhand smoke on Thu, 26 Apr 2007 04:44:00 PST |