Tuesday, September 11, 2007

the abdomen.

i'll be waiting,singing.

Monday, September 10, 2007

we love and hurt and love again.we play bad notes that sound perfect to our hearts.
and yet,we be.




*

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

yes,ok.

I miss the spaces you leave behind.
There are holes where you once were and my house looks like its been gnawed at.I walk through them and wave my fingers in their shadows.Not entirely sure what I feel about it though.A sense of loss,I suppose,but a good kind of loss.Like a piece of jewellery that misplaced itself,thus ruining your favorite bracelet.You keep that little piece,the one that caused all the trouble,and even though it did,you smile everytime you look at it.
We're all about the "I's" and the "we's" and the must-haves and should-nots.Never occurs to us how reflective we are,that there will one day be an end to the manner in which stories are told.That one day,we will stand in front of a complete stranger and see ourselves.That one day,everyone will have the same story,so there'll be nothing to say.And we would live in perfect,mindless silence.Walking in curved heels,carrying thin suitcases,eating raw apples.A place where people would connect through the ridges on their fingertips, and the angle they turned their heads at.Or through the number of sound waves in the air caused by a disturbing earthquake in Siberia.


He touches her collar bone,jutting out disproportionately at him.She responds by sucking in her breath.He studies the neat veins throbbing in her left hand,as she looks at his unpolished shoes.There is too much disbelief in the air,anticipation as to whats about to happen.Its quick,and no one says anything.The clock doesn't even chime 12.He breathes in her ear as she stares at the maroon and gold cieling.If she could just get her hands to find piano keys...