Calcium Carbonate

A day is so long
So long and so many
Times in an hour
Can you think a lonely thought
A thought of boredom
Or of dying

A day is so long
And so many
So many moments
To wait away

A day is so long
So many
Words to write
So much time
To invent creative
Ways to die

A day is so long
And so many in our lives
Life is not short
It is very long
It is very long
It is very tiring

Have you ever been so in love with someone, but they're too far away and too busy to talk to you, and you're terrified that they're even with you in the first place because you've never had something truly important in your life before and you don't trust yourself not to ruin it?

"Quick, kiss me before someone realizes we're not in love."

you know the feeling
it is the feeling of
staring at the ceiling while your digital clock hits midnight
sliding down in the covers and pressing your headphones tight
and it is the feeling of
"I know you're somewhere"
and of
not realizing you've been painting in silence for five hours
the feeling of
I wish my heart would burst
so you could see my blood isn't red
but every colour and some that don't exist
and then shimmering shards of light would lift us into space

Aficion

i am become the sky
and distant barren beachgrass
with windy hands and elevator lighting
i love you
kiss me
i love you
"94 accord"
i always wanted to live in those scenes
i saw on the side of the freeway
i never thought i could
but now i am anything
so i am become the sky

I'm still not convinced that anyone understands. I feel like I get up in the morning and walk through a world where the people are part of the scenery. At times I'm certain objects in the distance are just movie backdrops. The people around me are most definitely actors. Why else would their motions seem so unnatural? It scares me but sometimes I want to cut open a stranger just to be sure they're real people. Not that I ever would. Knowing for sure is way more terrifying. That's why when it's dark and you hear a noise, you don't turn the lights on, you stay still. But really, I expect at any moment for everyone to stop and say "Ha ha, just fooling! We're not really like this." Or maybe I hope it. I don't know, this probably sounds stupid and paranoid, but sometimes I feel like people who look at me when I'm on the bus or whatever already know who I am.

"It's a different thing than that entirely."

I love you there is nothing more
to say I love you every day
from trading flowers and holding hands
to tear monsoons and maybe soon
you'll understand me when I say
I love you there is nothing more.

I'm not sure if I like this.

Pojmański

I look into her eyes
Unimaginably far away a nebula glitters
She sighs softly
Space is silent
She leans toward me
A comet hurtles
She's closer now
A moon orbits a planet
Her lips part
Gravity gently urges the comet
She kisses me
It collides with the moon
My veins dilate and my heart races
Shattered rock is everywhere
She pulls back
Meteorites fall into the planet's atmosphere
She smiles
And a million alien eyes watch shooting stars

My eyes are flame. My heart is flame. I burn.

there is always again
there is always time is not a lie
the world will wait for you and i
why, the world will wait for anyone
who wastes their days wandering in a horrid haze
repitition is not routine, repitition makes us clean
and if you try one more time
there is always a gain

MEO

just to clarify
"perfect"
doesn't mean
you have no flaws
it means you have
all the right ones
and it means
you feel familiar

you know
"perfect"
that perfect
doesn't mean "that"
perfect it means you make
the world (you make
my world perfect) not
seem so strange

I was too busy having the best weekend ever to update, so here is a triple to make up for it.

"C'est incroyable!"

2

"Expect the unexpected" is a contradiction, because if you expect the unexpected then it becomes the expected. So let's throw away the expected and the unexpected, and focus on the fantastic and the strange. They are the things for which we need actually be prepared, because they are what distinguish today from yesterday.

Pastels taste yucky.

Gravity.

it haunts me in dreams
and snatched moments of night
the silence

i've heard it three times before
the first
i was twelve
i was camping with my family
and walked off into the woods
i sat on a rock
where the ferns caressed my feet
the wind stopped...
the trees hushed...
nothing.

the second
i was fifteen
i was night-time prowling
and on my way home
i cut through the park
away from the street
and the cars...
and the lights...
nothing.

the third
i am eighteen
i was on a class trip
we were snowshoeing on a summit
mist hung over the mountain
and the trees loomed to infinity
i fell back amongst the leaning giants
and my friends crested a ridge
their voices ceased to reach me
leaving me with the snow...
and nothing.

the silence
(you'll know it when you hear it)
comes unexpectedly
though it looms massive

and

the silence
is stillness
aloneness

it hangs
and smothers

it becomes of you
silences your mind
your breath
your heartbeat

it is timeless
infinite
immortal
eternal

it is the beginning
and the end

it torments me
and drives me to extremes

i know the silence is not merely of
placid lush forests
night-shrouded parks
or birdless ice-landscapes:
it is the song of death

Did this street look like this yesterday? I don't think I know the way home any more.

#

Other people simply glimmer in and out of our lives: ultimately we are each one of us alone.

9 days

I think I used to be someone different.

I hate when people ask me what I'm drawing as if I should know.

@

You're a shell of what you used to be.
And a shell is of no use to me.

Sangria

Amanda.

Before you answer, look at the stars. Know that for a billion years their light remains unchanged. That a thousand thousand stars could live and die and I could never love you more or less. Love the landscape of your body and your silken skin. Your voice as soft and dreamy as the wind in the trees and your eyes as brilliant as fireworks. Love your flower petal lips and, know that you seem more distant than any star. That as innumerable as they are, I would search each one for a million years if it meant I could find something more to give to you than the very voice from my throat and all the breath from my lungs.