hello, beautiful

Why? Because my blood is thick. I have all these tortured organs, I know it. I make them whipped. They ache, but with smiles across them. My sweet little heart getting big on itself. Making hard itself. That tumescent little thing. My mouths filled with apologies which fall out and disappear on a breeze. No one will hear! not even my own opened ears. My filthy fingers reaching for yours. Your cups in mine. Mine own overflowing. The quiet cold, my heartattack building, the mossy breeches of the nailed fingers, traipsing, traipsing toward yours. Yonder fingers tracing over mine mossy knuckles. But this is love, no? shall we argue? Nothing in me is for an argument. I give up, relentless, restless, accepting, open, whole, heartedly, whole. The whole hole filled with heartblood, gushing, retracting, sucking itself off. Never relenting, never detumescing. The various plaids of my outershells, my chitinous fibres. My camouflage, our matching stripes and shades. I will be there, you know it. I will scrape you off, when you need it. I will sing when you like me, I will look when your eyes are away. And still keep it when they turn back towards, inevitably. Do you still read me now?

no beauty, all the beauty

songs of yesteryear

Thursday 25 October 2007: 8:16 pm

heartbeats (not yours but mine)

Oh! Tortured lovebliss. But it isn’t mine… I’m cautious, I swear, and eternally.

I haven’t mentioned him because I haven’t mentioned anything. He’s my neighbor, a combination of one and another but mostly more and more he’s just he. The records are familiar. The 4 track, the guitar, the hair, the nose, the everythings, parts of a demeanor. I have a few friends now at 64 & 66 Grove St. There are many others here: A man (in height and wranglers) dreamboar; another, a model, who shares my birthday and is my brother & not mysteriously… And the newest. We hung out and I smiled over and over because they’re all great. They sip whiskey and smoke. And the energy is always up, there is always dancing and the birds sing and there is always music in the air.

Last weekend they had a party. I arrived and was stuck to him the entire night, up until 4:30 or so when we retired to his lofted bed in the closet for final. Steve Reich on the tape player on repeat, and suddenly just a foot touching mine. And then the all too familiar fucking with our hands, and I find him so beautiful we finally kiss one another but somehow by accident. No making out, I refrain…