I love you
because you're real.

I'm sick of death being an option
and my head swimming
around
and my tears
clogging my nose
and my head
telling me things that aren't true
I'm tired.

These images will haunt me
the ones of you
the ones not of you
these images will haunt me
they're already haunting me
they're already a memory of when you loved me
everything now is a memory of when you loved me
while you hold me
while you smile into my hair
while it's happening
it's a memory
while it's happening
every moment of you is a memory

One of those nights

This could easily turn into one of those nights
where I get a little lost
This could easily turn into one of those nights
where I get into bed feeling as though I just left it
This could easily be one of those nights
where my good mood died with the day
and the night is restless without end
This could easily become one of those nights
where productivity was a memory
and the head I wear to get things done with is put aside
while I spend five hours downloading games I won't play
This could very easily be one of those night
where I wake up wondering what the hell happened
in my own bed
in my own home
after a sober night in
wondering what the fuck happened
It could easily be one of those.

I'm getting very concerned
that I'm beginning to take things a little too seriously
and when I catch myself doing it
I'm worried the wind will change
and the person I once knew
who was a little dotty
and who wondered what it was like to be irritated
might not be around any more
and I'd be stuck
with this stranger
who scowls a little at bus drivers
and who's a little unpleasant
if a packet of sugar is missing a grain

It's all a little silly you know
Oh you didn't?
That's a shame.

Death

Pros: Nothing
Cons: Nothing

Life

Pros: Everything
Cons: Everything

Baffled, he glanced back again as though looking at something he didn't understand twice would help him comprehend it.

No one can see the future
even when somebody tells you what it is
your perception now
cannot understand distance
it isn't a matter of belief
or the impossibility of time travel
we are creatures of action
and can only know by doing or experiencing
when the world ends tomorrow
we will say
alright, but let me finish.

All you do is torture me
with your absence
all you do make me sad
with your memory
if love is so beautiful when it is right
how can I feel this pain
My existence without you
feels a waste
when you are not here
a blackness descends
and when you are here
I know it will descend when you leave
I am sad with you
I am sad without you
I love you too much
to be happy.

Somebody loves me.

If you get a chance, try existing for a while. Just a while. It doesn't have to be long, perhaps ten minutes or half an hour and in that time just exist. Don't do anything else, simply be aware that all you have to do is exist and take pleasure in that for a while. This sensation is felt best when it's dark, under the folds of many blankets on a night when you're drifting off in a way that is much more pleasurable than other nights. Things seem a little more comfortable and warm and safe and the burden insomnia is yesterday and the things you have to do are tomorrow but now all that you must do is exist in this moment and you are able to be in this moment without distraction or pain or discomfort. Simply experience your existence in a state where all that you can do or should do is lye down and fade into deep nothing. 

People From My Past Popping Up in Strange Places and Remembering My Name

It put me out.

The Internet

Allusions to God-like symptoms.

Autumn is the saddest season
not because of the rain
or the clouds
it's the light
the most beautiful soft, golden light
opens itself up
and mimics the dying leaves
I don't know why that light is so sad
perhaps the beauty of it
reminds me death
my grandfather died in Autumn
all those years ago
my first boyfriend broke up with me in Autumn
all that time ago
my birthday's in Autumn
I've never been very happy on my birthday
the light reminds me of something fading
of new beginnings
of leaving things behind
change always feels sad.

Sad Sort of Sunday

There is a sadness and a happiness which comes with everything
like a cold Autumn afternoon, perhaps a Sunday
where every now and then, the sun peaks through and casts a light so beautiful
and then it fades
and the colour of cold Autumn is back
but with a memory of light
and the light is beautiful
but it is sad because you know it has to go
and then the cold Autumn gloom is a little sad
but it is beautiful because that kind of light
only comes on these cold Autumn Sunday's.

The mess in my room
is leaking out the door
I found a glove
inching towards the hallway
on a pilgrimage
or a sea change
from the bustle of a chaotic order
trying to find somewhere
that isn't occupied by a boot
or a jumper
things it doesn't get on with
I wonder why its partner wasn't there as well?
the mess in my room is getting complicated.
END.


Further Ideas:

I received a letter of Alimony for a Ms. Glove the other day

Why Did You Have To Be High?

I finally saw you today
  but you weren't there.

Hello cold air

a hot tea

a bath

does nothing to drown your sorrows

a book

a light song

feel like echoes in your wake

nothing penetrates you

cold air

your hollowness prevails today

My home isn't my home
it never was my home
it will never be my home
I need a home
more than anything I need a home
that's my home.

I can't always control where my mind goes
and I had hoped that somehow you could be there to still it
because you do
but there's always something
something in the way
and I can't escape my circumstance
or my mind
I can't escape with you
I can't get on my path yet
and I feel better in motion
this stagnant frustration
is making me think
I'm better off on my own.

You replace everything that isn't there.

Today I love you.

I hope all photographers aren't like the ones I've met

I'd have to choose another profession.

I can't decide if I love or hate him most days
I suppose it makes sense I finally fell in love with him while he wasn't here.

It keeps things interesting at least.

When there's nothing you can do
you can do anything.

Useless pens
for useless people.

To fall in love
and stay in love

Being in love
and then not being in love

There are stranger things
but it's not something I'd like to get used to.

It was lying, larger than life, in the centre of a road in a place where you could forget was somewhere. It had sort of grey tan with dark brown stripes on its legs and tail with fainter spots of dark everywhere else. It lay as if asleep or caught between a stretch, like a photograph. The flies hovered on its paws, lips and eyes as if it were a pillow. It was a big cat, a tom perhaps. If it were a feral or a pet was hard to say, its fur was remarkably smooth and I felt compelled to pet it. It was the strangest thing to see, there really isn't much difference between life and death though I wish there was. I came home and sat on the couch with my old cat sleeping soundlessly on the rug with a soft lamp casting warm glows through the room. She was mostly in shadow and was laying in a strange way that meant she was deeply sleeping. She was breathing very softly and it was easy to think of her as dead, she looked very peaceful but also quite stiff and I found it very strange how easily I could imagine such a beautiful thing as dead.

Man, what a ridiculous thing.

What a ridiculous and fascinating subject

The subject of men

Ha!

You're an artist
you are!
Huh?

What else could there possibly be a photograph of?

Just this once
the ticking of a clock is not a dread
but a comfort
it is the reminder that time will continue
must continue, has to continue
there is no stopping it
and that my fear that it may stop
is unfounded
impossible
it will keep going
despite everything
and take me away from this place.

If only it could be stopped
when I reach my destination.

I cannot sleep without you
I cannot dream without you
I cannot think without you
I cannot do without you
I cannot be without you
I cannot see without you

Phantoms

The loneliness within you feel

it is not right

it is not real

it too shall pass

it will not stay

the phantom pains

will go away.

The Disappointment of Freedom

His eyes screamed for me with a soft beauty that only can be reserved for a desire so desperate that some may call it love. Love; such an unfathomable force it spares no one its finely tuned spines. I dare not wish it upon the darkest of hearts and yet its iron grip holds not with brute strength but with a sweetness that confuses, like chains made of feathers or light. So absolute is its hold you feel empty without it, like a prisoner being jailed so long they find the freedom of the outside world a stranger and long for the comfort of cool iron bars. The disappointment of freedom. Because once free from the pains of your imprisonment you are also free of purpose, the purpose to be free. Freedom has no purpose; once freedom is obtained there is nothing but to be free and what does anyone do with that?

When you start to miss the things
that piss you off about a person
then you know you're in trouble.

The Oracle was Confused

it's all in your head
this strange sense of dread
has no place in the spread
draw another card
she said.

My cameras lay dead
lost in the folds of doubt

I know I'm becoming boring
and I can't stop it
like a tsunami of sop

I'm not used to this.

Every time



I check


the dates



they say





he's not here.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder as they say
he said

so I said
distance fucks you up more like.

Will this Love Ever End?

When in love, there is no other state of being but to be in love,

There is nothing else to do but to be in love

No other face is visible, but the face of love

It is an anxious boredom

An exciting insomnia

The days in between the days of seeing your love are non existent

They are gaps in the world of love

When you see your love it is the purpose of your world, of your being

It is a filling sensation

As though a sieve has been turned into a bowel

And the eyes of love are like glass

Transparent and absent and yet full,

Full of the memories of love

And the head of love is dizzying

Like hard dirt pressing into the sides and filling it

Love is drunk

It is a chemical alteration

As though some substance has been taken

It is a trip or a stupor that has no end

It is a fun time with no come down

Like Ritalin, it keeps you awake long after you have wished for sleep

It’s a ride that you can’t get off

It becomes a part of you, a state you have to live in now

You learn to deal with love

You familiarize yourself with this rose tinted curse

You come to terms with the idea that his face is all you will ever see again

His smell is the only thing that you can sleep by

His embrace replaces meals

And his kiss is like water in the midst of a hangover.

When he holds your hand it is as though the goal of your life has been fulfilled and there is nothing left to do but be held.

To love and to be loved

And to know you are loved

And to know that he knows he is loved

And everything else is a wash of water color

Blurred and undefined.

And little by little

You remember the life you had before love

The things you found important

And you go back to them

But they seem lost amidst this world of love

They are shadowy outlines

Difficult to grasp

Through the haze of love

And with enough time

The shadows become more lucid

They gradually turn opaque

And now the world of love has grown

And the map is larger

And the life you lead before entering the world of love

Is now a part of this new world  

And you remember your other loves

And you know there is more than one kind of love

And you know there is more to do than love

So you go back to your other loves

And you begin to write about them

And you write about love.

I Am In Love

I am in love

And the spiders are breeding in my room

I am in love

And the underwear I have already worn lays draped across the floor, across books; smothering my room with the scent of sexual frustration.

It reeks.

I am in love

And everything is new and fresh and clear and everything is sick.

I am in love

And my stomach churns.

I am in love

As the papers pile up and the letters do not get read and the phone calls are not made and the computer does not get fixed and the photographs are not taken and the words are not written and the thoughts are scattered and the free radicals are eroding them and the candles burn as the music is played and the longing burns as the drinking is done and the paranoia and the sickness and the turmoil

as the spiders breed. 

Georgia. You're not like the other girls.

Five Descriptions Of What Happens When You're In Love

1)  When our naked bodies are lying upon each other I feel a melting sensation, not an emotional sensation but a physical one. It is as though our skin is merging or that the atoms in a bodies are in the exact place to form a bond. Like a diamond, it is as though our guts are melding into one another.

2)  When we kiss and I stop kissing you I immediately forget what kissing you is like. I kiss you for hours and hours in the same way or in different ways it doesn't matter. When I stop it is as though all memory of ever being near you is lost and I have to kiss you again.

3)  Your smell is like a blanket.

4)  The way you hold me is like some pill that switches off my head and there is nothing but bliss. You alter my state of being.

5)  In everyone there is a void, or some hole that they feel, and you live there.

I can't stand being in love

I stop living

I don't know what to do with myself

without them

when they're not around

I squirm

nothing seems worthwhile

and I would drop anything

if it meant a date.

Being in love is the blues

there's nothing to do any more

but love 

and sometimes be loved back

when I know I will see them again

every day is in the way

until that day

I just can't stand being in love

all my plans are shot

and I just live for them.

I wish I were mad enough

to admit myself to an asylum. 

I'd get to talk about myself all of the time

the conversations would be so enjoyable.