SWIMMING THRU THE AVALANCHE

to get to the top or
to breathe
bury deep thoughts of escape
the boulders too large
pressing on the chest

i've heard a mountain then
i heard not a sound but
colors then
shades of black and white

why are clouds so bright

THE BODY AND THE MIND

subscribe to your body
feel the corporeal reality
salt to the mind
flavor of living

think twice
         no
three times
think so far as to the flesh falls away
the meaning remains
        yes
the meaning relishes in
the simplicity of feeling

look inward
experience in time

I want to give credit where credit is do.  It ain't happening.  I'm a hack.  But I'm a better hack then most.

drops like
little beetles green and unknowing that
it don't matter

crushed like butterflies
this is your rain water
find a way around it

poisonous to
get clear impossible
stops of the locks
along a major river

could we be that mundane?
control everything
done and done
the water
done

ONCE AGAIN TO THROW IT ALL AWAY...

 Relativity is real.  In the same vein that time dilation is. 

 What little I live for, passes so quickly now. 

 But the things that kill me linger.  I've waited years and years to be destroyed by myself.

  As if the knife that I felt pushing between my ribs I slowed so that I could feel it for a moment longer.  In a sense I hindered it's advance but at the same time I didn't repel it to the point of survival.

  I flirt.  I'm due.

  It all comes to an impasse and the cosmos doesn't have time for jokers. 

  In reality that's all it has.

  Smile and nod.

Hard to keep the fire lit...

....Inside my brain I have this constant problem with sadness and self-deprecation. ...To keep the fire within lit, to keep creativity and desire a driving force I'm going to try again with this foolish blog, boring even myself in the process. ...But the feel of the keys moving forward have their own kind of salvation, a movement towards acting, something I've done little of for months now. I've forgotten how actually to spell many words, even their uses allude more than before. As with the softness of my bulbous stomach, I'm disintegrating into apathy of mind, body and spirit. ...to keep the fire lit... anything

Milk...

Apparently milk is made mostly of a slow-acting protein type called cassein.

When I was a child I was forced to drink a glass of milk every single night before going to sleep. Now when I drink milk late at night, sleep eludes me.

These days I drink vitamin D milk. Growing up it was lowfat (2%). In college it was nonfat. Once in a blue cow moon it's soy.

Today I didn't put any milk in my espresso. It's actually quite nice.

The Wooden White Skeleton

Today it faces me. Today it's ridged ribs, chalk white frame, bulbous skull, today the skeleton faces me. Usually it peers outward, out the window towards busy Stark St. and I can only catch its eye in the reflection of the glass. Today it's as though it signals to me, one arm frozen in upright salute or condemnation. I think the former. But now that I've noticed I can't ignore it.