placid (never in the right mindset at the right timeset)

it really gets me when all i want to do is write (it gets me like a chomping croc gets a hold of your fingers between his scissor teeth)
when i want to write, not those boring hard-to-word facts but my buzzy soothing thoughts..
not quite awkwardly, you hold your blanketed breast in your hand
an attempt to keep warm
and you tactfully place babysoft fingers right beneath your nose, feeling the peachy connection of skin touching against nostrils&the groove leading to yourmouth. and at the same time your nose gains warmth and your brain sucks in the soft soothing scent of gentle jasmine all soapy. you like this. you touch your lips and smooth the shiny parts of your nails across the lineated valleys. such natural seducing touch.
your thick wet lashes droop and the heaviness due to the sweat laced across your lids tells you that sleep or some calming is in order.
see everything is so placid. but you wanted this then, and now when you have this now you're worried too much because you shouldn't be this placid, you need to stay focused. this happens all the time.
your mind is playing tricks on you. your mind never wants to stay sharp. he likes to linger lazily and i can hear him breathing heavily and rhythmically like his heart is heavy and he wants to sleep.
silly ole mind don't mind me
.

look at the bottom of your shoe

gazing down at the blue through the black
dont you cry you wont cry im not gonna cry
all these wrinkles been pulling my hair back
i wont cry
no-one let you know that you could let go if you wanted
you held your little bloodshot tear inside your eye
and just got by
i wont cry
theres no time to stop no time to rest no time to blink
any more
no time for fun or so you think
you can feel us all standing on the brink
please catch me now and let me be
untie my mind for just this time
dont want no bags of stress piled on my arms
no lines on my head, all i want is your charms
to let me out and let me fly in a grey poof over the sky
grey poof puts me to sleep
i wont cry

talentia

i been thinking and i'm thinking
that we can all do whatever we want
one two three four five things even
if we want to
acause
talent fizzes in the pits of our stomachs
as caterpillars growl but we only see yawns
.resting on my laurels there is time enough
for absolute absorption of your little personal presents
gift-wrapped so simply in red-striped silk
but it doesn't matter how fabrizio is doing so well
if you rotate your eyeballs in their sockets you'll see that you'll do even better
and caterpillars sing but we only hear yawns
fabrizio was once a very hungry caterpillar
keep me curious
you run off to hide and once i've counted to ten
i'll find you.
and your gizzards.
the tree branches groan because no-one knows how long counting could take
where do you escape? to?
every day some beautifully hopeful artist sweeps colours through the sky
i'm not referring to some holy man on high
but this guy
who's got the rhythm downpat
and begs me to do things for everyone
including me
because my tummy is fizzling and the sea's not just going to wait around any longer.
carriage back on track. sausage deserves a smack.
you got talent! WHACK!

one you one me one love one day

no all those things change all the time
and no one even bothered to ask me what i think
underneath my elbow where the softness soundly sleeps.
i dreamt of purple painted skies and that person and of poems that i quickly create when i'm walking through the cheerful air to my dwelling-place.
when order has given up on me i talk and sing myself to sleep in the hazy choking room. panda has grown so pandery that spasms between the sheets are not uncommon.
one one one one one one one one. i'll tell it to you later. later is where my thoughts live.
and habits mound up like pencil-shavings. you all think you know everything, but what if you don't? seashells are so intricate. there's a middle and an edge.
i thought i knew but that's where we all stuff up, hair gel is the answer because we never really know. glitter at me sparkling polish. we'll entwine our vertebraes amidst each others' and amidst the entwined grey trees. no more wine for them to drink. the leech sucked all inspiration out of you. so close to me, so closed to me. when i could have touched your hair i silently stared at my feet. do boston buns ever have this much freedom of choice, do they ever get scared of choosing toothpaste? wipe your sleeve on your mouth after the calculator lets you.
you can make all kind of interesting sounds with a mere twenty-six little letters. i can't believe it. even it is fun to split up words into strange sounds. like wat/er, from the word water.
eck/set/eh/rah

fork those moments

cursing under angry strangling breath
forcing foreign words out through slits in your teeth
no time to think, actions faster than thoughts
actions speedier than time
yet the whole world slows down
to timidly absorb you, chewing their nails in fear
they're shocked by this difference in the natural order of things
and notice everything
your body quakes with the overwhelming attention and sickness sidles up to your tight chest
later there's your damning doubt, regret
as sensibility slips back on like a shamefully silky glove
now that everyone has seen this side of you
do things change? does it matter?
fork fork fork you mutter to yourself.
and when your eyelashes fall gently onto your cheek all you can whimper is fork that. fork it out.
then in one final triumph you let the wild wind take hold of you and you scream out everything.
and its not to be worried about again.

tod ay

i hate love but
i hate hate
so it doesn't make sense
much to me

asta la vista baby

Sometimes things are just way too stale
For their own good
“There’s stale in your hair,” cried the boy with the pointy haircut.
“There’s stale in your hair,” cried the girl with the purple button.
“There’s stale in my arm,” shrieked the unholy prisoner.
“There’s stale painted in warm blood on my bathroom wall,” mumbled the nurse.
“Stale is crawling beneath the lining of my bedroom carpet,” sneezed Jeremy.
Anita agreed, saying that she wished her earlobe just wasn’t so stale.

“Here, have a try then,” chuckled the joyously wrinkly retiree to a lemon-coloured child.
I have to admit that I can feel my swollen vessels pulsing with the surprisingly silly realisation that this may be viewed as absurd by most members of the community, including myself. But sometimes the scroll just has to be untied and rolled out flat on some concrete.
“Sell your trumpet before it is of no proper use to you,” Uncle Kevin quietly mimicked, and I humbly nodded.
After some time, the giant ant wiggled his legs all across the sparse, slightly prickly terrain of my kneecap. He was mighty giant. I felt as if he would crush me. Any minute now one of his legs pressing on my skin would be far too much for me to handle and I would collapse. But muesli is so good. Never.
“What is this life doing to you?”
Do you know how many shimmering emerald handbags you have glowed in the presence of? Jane wonders what it would take to dive in amongst the contents.
“There’s lipstick on your eyelid,” cried Aristopher.
Crash into your sandcastle, only after the sunset. It will cost you nineteen dollars to pat my hair.
"On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur, l'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux."
Someone is waiting over there carrying a stained envelope and the controller says that you're sticky. What was he looking at when thunder sounded beneath the willow trees? Won can only one der.

Australia by The Shins lyrics

Born to multiply, born to gaze into night skies,
All you want’s one more Saturday.
But look here, until then
They’re gonna buy your nice time
So keep your wick in the air and your feet in the fetters
To the day.
You come in doing cartwheels
We all go out by ourselves
And your shape on the dance floor
Will have me thinking such filth and gauge my eyes.

You’d be damned to be one of us girl
Faced with a dodo’s conundrum
Ah, I felt like I could just fly
But nothing’ll happen every time I try.

A dual tone under wall
Selfish fool and hoped you’d save us all
Never dreamt of such sterile hands,
You keep them folded in your lap,
And raise them up to beg for scraps,
You know, he's holding you down,
With the tips of his fingers just the same,
You'll be pulled from the ocean,
But just a minute too late,
Or changed by a potion,
We’ll find a handsome young mate,
For you to love.

You'll be damned to pining through the windowpanes,
You know you'll change your life for any ordinary Joe,
And though your night will go on,
Your nightmares only need a year or two to unfold.

Been in love since you were twenty-one,
You haven't laughed since January,
You try and make this up this is so much fun,
But we know it to be quite contrary.

Dare to be one of us, girl,
Facing the Andrum's conundrum,
Ah, I feel like I should just cry,
But nothing happens every time I take one on the chin,
You’re humoring your cote,
You don't know how long I've been,
Watching the lantern dim,
Starved of oxygen,
So give me your hand,
And let's jump out the window.

my sweetie brings me sweet tea

oh honey you put too much honey in the tea
that you served him
and ignored the warning
(they tried to warn you)
that more than a spoonful of sugar
could have this discerning effect
but the illuminated glass reflection
accentuates the pleasantry of your
visage crowned with careless curls
so your heart-shaped glass sort of overflows
and the water spills over the edges
whetting his appetite and his sleeve
then when dry, his tongue suffers the
harsh, barren conditions
associated with drought
and the windmills in his mind slowly turn
bitterly reminding him that he can't
handle all this tea

it's staining his teeth