Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!

Friday, January 12, 2007

Bad Movies

There are tv shows to fast forward. Foul plastic surgeries to unbandage. Little elephant men painted on the liquid crystal canvas.

And babies to have. In the pliant reality that is addiction. Words bite the panties away from rigid vaginas. Its ceramic lips cast for a kiss that isn't coming.

So many people to ignore. Where do I begin? Poised on the skeleton's hips. Dressed in a beautiful gown of long lost skin. And splintered bones. Wearing the world around my neck. A tourniquet of faces kill the wounds that I used to share with him.

There's a bad movie in my head from the moment I wake up until the second that sleep absolves. I watch them choke out on hungry faces about to orgasm. I taste them in the odor of casual sex. The way it permeates the room long after we've forgotten the ghosts we had to become to find each other. The price of heaven hiding in a stray hair on my pillow.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

fancy seeing you here. since it's you I'll forgive you knocking me down a post! Ha!

the smell of casual sex is 'funk' is it not?

quite icy and menacing this piece anyway - was that your intention?

Anonymous said...

To me this seems angry, restless, and lonely.
So many people to ignore. Where do I begin? I've definitely felt that at times.
Well done.

Cocaine Jesus said...

'the price of heaven hiding in a stray hair on my pillow"
what a brilliant line.
sex and pain and alienation all sit here nicely
and yes RUK i saw this little diamond of a writer on your site.
quite near to me in fact!

Prick said...

Lets drink together.
Lets water down the soul so we can taste the spirit for what it really is.
Lets wet the fucking reality to drown it all out.

Oh how I would enjoy, to drink from your cup. But not for the 'odor of casual sex', but perhaps to taste the 'heaven, hiding in a stray hair on my pillow'.

Anonymous said...

had tried to respond sooner, but blogger would have none of it.

sorry ruk. i read that piece write before i started writing mine and didn't even realize it was you. you're so different here. i mean that in a good way.

casual sex to me is a combination of beer, latex and sweat. but i like the stench. makes me feel less a poet and more a woman.

angry, restless, lonely: yes! all of the above. don't forget apathetic.

thanx cj. when you have as much hair as i do the metaphor isn't that hard to come up with. i was just remembering then, this time i was laying in bed with this guy and he began pulling this really long hair of mine out of his mouth. kinda like the clowns with the never-ending hankerchiefs. but of course i had to put a dark and sentimental petina on it.

sweet words prick. now there's a bizarre sentence fragment.