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Erotic poetry edition of The Moon   
07:34pm 28/04/2006
 
music: My Lady's House - Iron and Wine
So, the school publication is hosting their annual erotic poetry contest.

As such, I have the following bits and pieces in progress to contribute.

I have the taste of you
Lounging on the tip of my tongue.
The faint scent of your essence stays, still,
Until I lick my lips to capture the final flavours
(Those, I cannot forget)
And the final touch of you is taken from me,
Trust me, it goes unwillingly.

I wish, even tonight, to have you.

These traces, long washed away,
Are mere memories of what we shared
The night before.
I’ll make it last, I know, but still.

The pleasure of your movement,
The salt and the waves,
We come together
As ne’er before,
Nor ever again.

The soft pads of your fingers
Tracing the path over
Which your eyes wandered
Etching for tomorrow
The memories we make under the new moon.

I hold as of now,
Behind my eyelids,
The wingtips of your love.
Fluttering and shaking
Sure and slow you move, within,
Taking all that I have to give.

And now that my wells are empty of tears,
There’s little to offer except the harbor
Of my body, offering shelter
From this storm of fears,
Dampening feathers, I know, long prepared for flight.

I am not able, with sharp intake of breath
And quick, painful closure of this and my eyelids
To forget, though, oh, I wish to,
The shuddering, twisting entanglement of our limbs.

That I hold so dear.
Instead, this is the night which comes near
With comfort of dreams,
With you so far gone,
It holds me in its cold, lonesome embrace.

O, that it were your arms, and not this chilling breeze,
Encompassing me.

_

As Spring has unfolded her multitudes of petals,
So has this become unbound, my heart.

In some other way should I have you know,
That I watched as you glanced over your shoulder,

And I sighed as nothing kept you from tripping,
Into the next step of your stride.

I know I ought to have been in bed,
Been in bed with you.

-

A stranger, a dangerous man, has just left my door.
Biting nails and hiding his eyes, a request slipped from his lips.

This foreigner, human of some other kind, has left black boot scuffs on my clean floor.
His shoes are not yours.

Skirting contact, misinterpreting my kindness, his words rose unbidden.

The indention on my visible bed, the place of privacy in which our actions dwell,
Leaves no doubt as to why I can not.

How to explain, to convey through the screen of unintended circumstance,
That the choice is not mine, but that you were guided to me on chance.

I find myself rooted to the spot where you kissed me last.		  
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On love.   
07:03pm 06/02/2006
  Valentine's Day is coming up and I spent last night and some hours of the morning with the only two people I would want valentines from. Further, I dreamt of them and all I'm left with is want. Waking hours are the least satisfying of those which I spend here. The last sentence was not true. But I love when I dream, even when everyone in the dream(s) point towards a blatant lack of physical and emotional satisfaction.
It is so hard to be the person that I am and not have someone to tuck my hair behind my ears when I'm irrationally frustrated during arguments. It's somehow truly painful that I don't even have hair to tuck behind my ears. I want love and I want palpable attraction and contentment and I want to share me with someone who wants me to share. Love is such a painful nonexistance.

Most of my lj friends were removed. I do not want to have to explain me to anyone except kayla. I keep narrowing myself down to this and that one thing, or sometimes a pair.

I am distraught and eating more than I should and sleeping without regards to time management. I don't want to be depressed anymore. For the first time in a very, very long time I felt separation between me and everything whirling around me. I sat in the bottom of a shower with water so hot it irritated my skin pouring on me for at least 10 minutes, staring at the corner where ground and walls meet and part of me collapsed. I don't want this to happen, because I can't lose myself. There's too much here and I've worked and hoped for too long to achieve this one and only goal that's meant anything for so long.

I just want love so badly that I hurt when I awoke from dreams of having someone hold my hand. I fought to stay asleep. I lost.		  
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some things stain the fibres of your clothes likes blackberry stains.   
01:25am 10/12/2005
 
mood: enthralled
music: chelsey fasano - blackberry stains
I don't know what to say or where to begin or what I want to remember in this. I've been sneezing infrequently and my dad's asleep behind me. I'm listening to the mix cd that my new friend shelby jean (!!!) sent me after I brought her mcvitie's as a thank-you gift for showing me around campus. I read my first platonic dialogue and was deliriously pleased with seminar, especially knowing that the JF class will consist of more... apt minds. my roomie for the night, a prospie from northern cali (orange county) named sarah leach (hahaha, how apt.) was manic depressive/bi-polar/previously suicidal, and none of that was any issue except that she relayed her entire life story including the girlscout lesbians she's known her entire life and I just didn't want to be in the room alone with her. when I got back from a midnight stroll in my pjs and peacoat my belongings were straightened and neat without my doing, but I never asked if she had touched my stuff. nothing's missing so I'm okay. as far as the campus goes, SJC has the prime real-estate of santa fe and there are no arguments that can say otherwise and be correct. I awoke at 6 to sit outside and freeze as the sun rose over monte sol, the 8000+ foot mountain right next door which has paths from the student parking lot up its sides to the top where a swing resides. I have met many students and remember most of their names. I am known as the prospie who spoke in class, to the amusement of those who have met me. I was interviewed by mr. farin, a german man who graciously invited me to his house for conversations about my ideas of the college and what I intend to earn during and by my education here. My admissions counselor has proven himself a man of amusement and genuine kindness, so much as to persuade me to take faith in myself and admissions' decision to have me as a JF, as well as enjoying my ramblings on being a youngster and coming from the education I've received and thus far I believe I have presented myself well and been received in a corresponding manner.
also, I'm completely unable to deal with certain students with whom I have been in touch since late april and seriously, there's something unusual to be found between the two of us. I want to apologize for having been cagey because I absolutely could have struck up conversation standing in line in the dining hall and everything except we both acknowledged eachother's presence non-verbally and maybe that was enough. I suppose we shall wait and see until january.
in the meantime, I'm going to go sleep and love this place and the dryness and the cold and the beauty of sparseness. tumbleweeds own me.
love from new mexico,
me.

maybe it's the way you look so scared when I look into your eyes,
or maybe it's that I'm older - things don't mystify me anymore.

I expect that the rain will be so rare as to merit sprinting outside and twirling beneath raindrops.
the stars are more real than they've ever been before, and the air is rich with simplicity.
this place is one for healing and meditation.		  
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Today.   
02:52pm 02/11/2005
 
mood: amused
music: Ani Difranco - Joyful Girl
Today I spent a substantial amount of time comparing translations of The Iliad, as well as some of Plato's works, including Phaedo, Apology, and Creto. I have yet to purchase any of the Plato texts, but I did buy The Iliad translated by Robert Fitzgerald, a rendition that I much prefer to that of Fagels'.
Prior to that I lingered in the steam of a shower much enjoyed. I motored with Weezer as the perfect accompaniment to my general attitude, and upon arrival at KHS I ran into both Michael Niemi and Brandi Lamb. The first time Mike has spoken to me in years, something I used to await with such fervent hope, proves itself a flop. I believe he expected anger or some other... unnecessary response. I said "Hi.." without realizing that he was greeting me only with malice in mind. I have become the person who wishes they could think of an immediately hateful response. I am happy with my initial ignorance of his intent.

Afterwards, motoring again down Kingwood Drive, it turns out that Mike was behind me for a few miles, which resulted in my sincere laughter.

Today has been good.

If I weren't spending every penny of mine on things like texts, I would want this:

http://www.stjohnscollege.edu/asp/main.aspx?page=6997&parent=2507		  
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11:39pm 28/10/2005
 
music: a humming computer
This is to say that I am at this moment tied into some form of an abyss, that the forever which lies ahead is transient and broken, full of torn paths and twisted pavement, confusion being the only thing upon which I may rely.

This is not to say that I am unhappy, nor that I am sad, simply that I grieve for some part of me which may never be fulfilled. I yearn for the dreams which at this moment have yet to be broken, that in time I might live in these possibilities which I now desert.

I am floating in this eternal salt lake and I do not want to let go of the fantasy which consoles me, but I fear. I fear that I have no choice, that these things set ahead of me have always been and will remain against all hope. I want. I want this so badly that I am pained at the thought of its absence.

It has been two and a half days too long, and only four days remain. I know not what else remains to be said.		  
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  epicrisis
 
 

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