November 2011
October 2011
1 tag
“Whereas the truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter...”
– Gustave Flaubert
“The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts...”
– Charles Bukowski
(via psychedeli-sandwitch)
i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your...
i walk too slowly in the rain
numb from the raw air
and nearly silent tuesday mornings
an echo so faint it may just be the passing of time
but good god, was that him, walking by just now?
it can’t have been but the thought of it
hits me with the force of the volcano under my skin
newly torn open to the wet night
grief so huge it ceases to be sadness
and becomes everything else too.
it’s freezing outside and i’m guilty of too many things.
and you’re kind of an asshole.
but going outside so you can call me to say goodnight makes all of that seem so little.
