The Hidden War

i don't care: i want to cry.

2002 seems like forever ago and i can't wait to get back there. twenty-five and nothing was different. man, when i get back there, you'll see.

but it wasn't much to look at, you know. and i remember being so fucking smug when i returned to las vegas in october of that year: staying at claudia's place on boulder and lake mead, drunken conversations, debauch sex in the fall sun. it wasn't a good year, no.

maybe it's how much i hold against myself. no excuses, no one ever says you're doing too much. no one ever says a thing. and maybe a little tiny crack showed but everyone's too goddamm polite to say so.

there isn't much left going on: and i sliced my hand open on a fairly new wound (from this last weekend) and how time moves: nearly a week later. and i'm bleeding while working and i don't notice it until it drips onto the floor.

i wouldn't trade it for the world. but i hate how it feels like i need a jumpstart every fucking time i wake up.


(c)2008

Dig

i wish i didn't know it could exists. that it could happen. and every time i see you i know what's behind your eyes, i can feel it. i know it's there and i know you love me. of that there is no doubt. but what's missing is its sheen. because there are no more compromises to make, and none i'm willing to make and all we have is...just love. a love that's done. i don't question your feelings nor mine. our love has just run its course. our love has used up all its magic, and i wish i didn't know there was such a thing.


(c)2008

Girl

girl, i love...

...the way my tee shirt fits you; the way you hold out your hand in the mornings for the first embrace; how you smile when i say something i don't mean to be funny; the way you twist your hair when you're thinking; how very much you laugh when your favorite movie's on; how you drink a cup of hot chocolate; when you say thanks after i make you breakfast; the way you look at me, even when you're pissed at something wrong i did; how you read, serious and stern; when you browse the electronic bins at the record shop; when you read the comic books i know you'll like; when you listen to your new favorite band; when we argue about what's inconsequential; when you accept my apology; when you tell me it's going to be better tomorrow; when you tell me how today's all we have; when you concentrate and furrow your brow; when you turn the stereo to loud; when you try on that new pair of jeans; when we walk along the beach; when you telephone me and say you got home alright; when you call me and ask me how i am; when we plan a trip; how much you care; the way your daughter talks to you; the way we're not polar opposites; and when you say you'll miss me when i'm gone.

warren ellis: 'Another day down the mines of our lives. We drink 'til we stink and smoke 'til we choke because that's how we get things done, you and me. Spending our lives making things and making things out of our lives, because anything else would be dull as hell. And we're damned if we're going to sit at the other end of whatever years we get saying, well, what the fuck was that for? Years of scars, lipstick, and tears. And every day the dawn comes on we turn our eyes up in surprise, saying: there's that goddamn sun again.'

(c) 2008