Confessions of an enamored serpent

The smoke silting from nag champa incense reveals an underlying knowledge that is incomprehensible. White layers of rippling flesh, rolling, tumbling, soaring through the air... it understands the flow of the universe. Naturally, I assess it also understands the nature of love. The scented smoke conforms to my interfering hand, sliding over my hot skin in delirious coils of orchestra-worthy performance. It pulls and stretches through the air like fine threads of spider's silk, bending and bowing with the guidance of invisible spirits given body by the rhythmic and sensitive motion of the burning incense. Like my heart and my wandering mind, it dissipates into the atmosphere... distancing itself from everything but the orange ember at the tip, which in one simple gesture is smitten by my tender fingertip.

Take me all the way

I'm too tired to practice masochism. 'Wanna break my wrist for me?

Foul-hearted

My mouth is sour... so is my spirit, since I'm capable of these atrocities. If you have any justice in your heart, slay me before the tears have time to dry on my face.

Worrisome Discoveries

I lie on my back and stare at the leaves. They sigh and synthesize the peroxide in my wounded side. I blink at their concern and let them curl in their enrapture of my silent regard. The tainted grass is filled with insects. They crack gravel under their sharp limbs. I feel them scuttle across my skin, but I don't pay them the same heed as the cohort of boughs.

"I worked hard for these layers", I run my curled hand across my arm bent across my stomach. The sunlight has saturated my skin with light. I can't look for long.

"You're low maintenance and easy to talk to, but you don't let anyone in." I don't nod. I don't even look at you. But you know I hear and understand the depth and truth in what you say. I begin to open my mouth, but you fill it with words, "By denying people entry, you've built a shroud over your real character. All you do is adapt to other people, and that makes you seem like a perfect friend." I close my mouth. "They feel safe with you. You feel safe because you're alone when you're with them. But you love their company too much. You can't be alone for long."

The leaves are shimmering. They look so violent against the blue sky. I felt so comfortable with them a moment ago, but your words turn their genial sigh into a hissing torrent in my head. You know me too well, too well, too well. You found a secret door I forgot to lock and let yourself in. You knew that if you announced your presence I'd bar the door. I feel invaded (violated). I'm not alone anymore, but now I'm vulnerable and I can't bare it. Without thinking I get up and walk away. I don't say goodbye. You aren't sad when I leave you to bask in the shade alone.

Violent Bone-China & an Elephant

I'm only home for three more months, so I thought I'd ruin my carpet. Mom told me she was planning on replacing it after I left anyway, so I made the most of that statement today. I'm so restless. I'm going for a walk.

April 4, 2006

I was at my cousin's farm. But my cousin's family was dead and left the farm to me. It was mine now. There were so many people there. Most of them I didn't know but I didn't care very much to know them, nor did I care that they were there. I just kept walking around and watching them. All they did was lounge. I'm pretty sure they were all just high... staring at the ceiling, staring at the floor tiles or the wall, staring at the ceiling fan slowly, slowly rotating. I felt like I was looking for someone but I didn't know who. The only one I recognized was Andrew -- this obscure kid that I've met twice but both times it's been when I'm drunk. The second time I saw him I had this impulse to crack my beer over my head. That or break it on the dance floor. Not to get his attention, just to feel the beer foam over my face or watch it foam on the floor.

I left him to lounge like the rest. I walked into the gymnasium that was inside my house. It was a sickly biege colour with poor lighting. The combination makes you feel dizzy. Ironic that it's a gymnasium, isn't it? The structure was similar to that of the Brownell's elementary school gymnasium. I've only been in it once before for volleyball (or was it basketball? I seem to remember orange or white but maybe because I was always staring at my shoes. Did I ever own orange shoes?) I was in my socks so I began to spin on the waxed floor. Andrew followed me like he did that night at the Bassment. He kept trying to talk to me, but I just kept spinning. I wanted him to go and lounge. I wondered why he wasn't high. He looked so sober and sad, but I didn't acknowledge him. I lay on my back and began to spin myself in circles with my bent legs. I couldn't see him then. I just saw the pipes and metal rafters of the ceiling twisting eccentricly above me.

I owned a field full of weeds and a poorly lit gymnasium. There was lots of people in the house but it was okay with me. I didn't care to know them, but it was comforting to have the company. In the end everyone will come to understand that the only person they can really depend on is themselves. Friends are good to have and nice for spooning, sometimes venting, and always loving, but when it comes down to the nitty-gritty details... you have to be strong for one person and one person alone: yourself.

I lay spinning. Andrew didn't speak much. We were both okay with the fact that I ignored every word coming out of his mouth. He didn't even seem to speak to me. He kept looking at the walls when he talked and when he stopped he would always look back at me with the same look that he gave the wall. It's always cloudy in my heart. I wish it would rain already.

Striped Reptile

I hid the key in the tiger's mouth. I hid it in the largest tiger I owned. He was the barer of intimate knowledge: prohibited secrets I shared with no one else. His glass eyes didn't reveal anything. I felt safe in the haven of his unprejudiced and unfeeling stare.

I hid the key in the tiger's mouth until I didn't believe secrets mattered, until I became a chameleon and adapted to everyone and everything in my life.

I lost the key that I used to secret away in the tiger's mouth.

I'm the blood eagle. Beyond my flapping lungs you can see and feel my heart. What will you do? Does that power frighten you?

It's okay.
It's all right.

I trust you.

I foretell our devastating fate.

Brine poured over the lip of the ship. It smelt deliciously thick with salt and sealife. Burnt-gray cloud smattered the sky but a strange pale light kept the ship in clear sight. Malcontent shipmates were aboard. But they were not shipmates anymore. Something had changed and mutiny mutated into an unbridled desire to kill.

Their thirst for blood sent electric pulses throughout my body. I ran at full tilt, ignoring the blazing pain of the wood planks gripping my bare feet and the icy wind tearing at my face. I wanted to preserve my life, at least from their groping fingers. They found everyone thus far. I was the only one left, alongside a frantic-looking girl. My face was likely marred with the same eccentric fear. Her breath poured outwards in wavering bursts. Their voices reached us. Their swiftly pattering feet filled our ears and sent our knees ajar.

As if the same impulse urged us at the same pace in our heads, we automatically turned at the same time and ran in the same direction. We both fell through to a secret hull in the ship where the light shafted in thin, gray lines. The alteration was difficult to get used to, but once we grasped our surroundings we saw a torturer hovering over a victim who was plastered in blood and burbling past layers of pain. Tears washed away two curvaceous lines that ran to his jaw: two pale lines shone white past a mask of black-flaked blood. I didn't feel pity for the victim, and I felt comfortable with the torturer. He looked at me and I looked at him. We understood one another and felt safe in each other's company.

The other girl wrenched her head side to side, a sliver of a whine carrying up her throat to taper into a groan at the back of her mouth. Two slits lay in the floor. No noise came from them, but I knew something metal and swift lay underneath that would slice her body into thousands of dirty pieces. She seemed unaware, or knew but didn't care. She slid under like a fish on the slimy deck of a ship. There was no noise. But she was dead for sure.

They would find me eventually. I was positive of that. But I didn't want to leave this haven. The victim heaved breath after breath, a languished wheeze concluding each. I wasn't afraid of what the torturer had done. I knew it was his job, that he was a malicious person by craft. He may've also been sadistic by nature, but it didn't matter because we fed off of the courage and hope in each other's presence. I wasn't sure whether to follow the other girl's fate, or stay close to my silent, seemingly dangerous friend. They came and the wheezing man wept some more. The torturer was still. I knew there was no hope, but I did not close my eyes. The boards bit into my feet. They were icy cold to touch. The ship moaned in a jarring fashion, grunting under the exertion of the ocean. My sea legs held fast. Theirs didn't, but that was because they didn't belong here.

They stole me away; I was the one-person left that might be able to preserve their fate.

The ocean would grow angry. Although the torturer would stay silent, I knew his rage would develop and soar with the waves. Someday soon, plates of water would sever their heads, including my special friend's.

Quoteth She

"This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet."
-Juliet

Tuesday Evening

Look for the cold taste of an ice-tapered kiss in the morning of a dew-covered summer.
Undeniably you're certain to be
crying from the sun in your eyes when you see the harvest roll in a playful gale. You're saturated in colour. You're so bright I daren't stare into the glare, but somehow I can't refrain. You're too beautifully brilliant and it burns my eyes. But when I look away and then return my gaze to you I find that you're
gone.

Trees that extend like arms.

I'm on the verge of terrain amply filled with danger and adventure. The landmarks are familiar, but the landscape is not the same. I feel dissimilar: I don't deny the lush existence of this place, but I deny myself entry.

The danger that lurks is very real. I'm aware of its potency. But this place is different from last time. The landmarks are familiar, but the landscape... it's not the same.

Game of Trust (how dare you test me)

I hate the silence. It mocks my lonesome state.

So I fill the void with screams.

The street is suddenly alive, but I'm still all alone...
(and full of these lonesome memories).

They always leave before me.
I'm always left with memories.
Someday, that'll be okay.
But for now it sucks.

(I think I'm sick. The sanity in my eyes is fading.
I'm delirious! So I begin to scream again...

Cobalt teal jaws of life

Did you know millipedes can be friends?

She walked into the store and glanced idly at the merchandise before turning to me, "Anything for a mom in here?"

"Page one," she said while they held hands and stared at the side of a house, waiting for the streetlight to change.

Do you feel the world pulsating?

Abhorred

There are many ways to activate my smile. But there is only one way to get to the switch, that's by a zipper. I broke it while trying to reach my smile-switch today. Despite my efforts, I can't fix the zipper on my own. I keep catching my fingers and my eyes hurt. They crinkle and they seethe under scrupulous lights. If I blink hard enough will next year appear behind the tear-smeared blur?

I always feel like I'm waiting for something to happen. I try to make it occur, but it never does. I strain too hard. The tendons in my brain are weakening. When I'm too tired to try they fall in malcontent and tender disarray. Where's a train when you really need one? Never on the local tracks, always across the continent carrying more worthwhile passengers to well-deserved destinations... never conveniently cracking my body in two.

Don't look or ask for me today. My smile is the residue of a sticky switch that refuses to move; it has the capacity to burden hearts with its bitter insinuation.

Methodical, 'though not at all.

So there was method in his madness...



the Ice Queen shed her loathsome layers of permafrost.



And as an arachnid molts away its exoskeleton,
Or a spring-snow christens warm-fleshed foliage
She experienced munificent silence.