dilation

when is a couch not a couch?  when it frames a certain space in which time moves at a different speed than that of the ordinary world.  when four arms and a blanket all intertwine like orange-white strands of molten glass.   when the floor is made of lava and the thought of leaving is so absurd that it is immediately gone with the next breath, like a stray eyelash (but without the wish). 

papercut/lovebug

it rips through the skin so fast the aftermath smells of friction.  the involuntary drawn breath ensures that this smell permeates the nostrils.  several moments free of exhale follow like children.  and the inevitable gravity-influenced tear-shaped crimson drops taste warm and metallic.  it’s always deeper than what seems possible for such a delicate thing. 

rat vs. snake

today i received a reply to a message i sent five years ago.  this made my eyes well just a touch.  obviously i am fond of the written word and these words took some serious time and reflection to create.  it was immediately apparent that they were naked and honest as well.  i read the reply first as my 2013 self and then again as my 2008 self, attempting to determine whether or not i’d changed in that window of time.  i concluded that i had not changed (perhaps due to my own stubborn stance on the concept).  but it was amusing to think of my natural responses to those words as both current-me and five-year-younger-me.  for example, with regard to a statement about a nearly-blinding eye infection my 2008 reflection would have streamed, “eye -- lazy eye -- silversun pickups – music video with that girl with pixie hair – i wonder where she is now?”.  but now my mind goes something like, “eye – aye – bands love it when you yell ‘yar!’ at them – minus the bear – cat’s cradle – girl in the front row – i wonder where she is now?”.  

float

i haven’t gotten a whole lot of sleep in the last week.  i am not, though, compressed to the ground with the weight of missed dreams.  instead i float slightly above the earth as my reality has become blurred with the stuff of reverie.  and during the few hours i do get to rest i have a greater sense of peace as the melancholy sound of knife grazing glass (scraping the bottom of the jar for the remnants of something whose color or consistency i could no longer recall) has faded from my ears.  i can see it again.  it is thick and blood red. 

heart cooks brain

my grandma and your grandma

sitting by the fire

my grandma says to your grandma

i’m gonna set your flag on fire

my heart’s the flag.  
every time i pass a mirror i expect to see burnt orange lick behind my green eyes.