Malena

Done rye and wheat

Veroux

It is still in progress.

Promese

i promise to be with you when you die.
holding non other than roses
taking a glance at the time
sighing as loud as a lion
closer than closest ill stand
pushing away all the crying
softer and colder you'll breath
after this day you'll stop trying
bony and yellow with hours
hair will be branches and leaves
ill stroke it gentle like owls
hoping that wolves tear you free
maybe my hands will make pillows
for eyes hollow cheeks and white tongue
perhaps wrinkled elbows will follow
as you fall away from the sun
i will be there right by you
not behind not ahead but right there
drinking your blood and your tire
so there is no need to go far
paste your ice fingers on my eyes
tender and silky they'll feel
pace your still heart even stiller
so mockingbirds sit for no treat
ill wait as the clouds fully gathered
spill their wet guts on our heads
and once god has emptied his bladder
your lips will once more become red
there will be a day ill stop crying
ill stop listening for your steps
ill close all the windows in my room
and wait till the sun greets me dead
then i too will spread my old ringlets
ill call for your ear and your hands
and maybe just maybe you'll greet me
away from the sweaty cold land


(photo via photobucket )

Dont cry for me Argentina

They used to live in Buenos Aires. Now the Nerdy uncle is still there and Grandmere is in Krasnodar.
Wonderful people.

Sous Tally

Where do tallies go when there aren't any wooden posts to slap them onto?
I might know the answer.

They get marked on to your cup of coffee.
Your earrings
Your stockings
Your phone and laptop
Your toast and butter
Your pencil and pen

Your ears and nose and eyes and hair.

One time i lost respect for myself. Last night i lost respect for myself again.
That was the last time. I broke a tiny silk thread through time and space, so now little caterpillar moth, eat your own jasmine garden, not mine.

Goodnight tally birds.