“Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart.”
Yann Martel, Life of Pi (via words-and-coffee)

Of 1.5 years

We have our lives together to look forward to so why does two weeks away from you make me feel lost and worried for I am chasing you although we still are in the same city and I am now leaning on what we shared this morning, to savor each drop of what’s left and still coming out from within me because you get me missing you on our off days. Listen, the kisses I will give you when I return are already brewing in the factory of fantasy. It is certain I did not need to grow fonder of you so this distance I am preparing for will remind me of that destined start that got us fucking slowly as quickly as that bong was ripped or as anxiety struck me suddenly onto Madison’s bed, thrusting me into you with a full mooned glow. We didn’t know how easy it would be to fall despite the chocolate underlining of my eyes and the close attention designated for my creamy wintered thighs; I found out straighter hair was not what you preferred, so what got us in that room last January couldn’t have been my trying bodycon ensemble or my self assured fur. You got me to love on you as I never had tried before to eventually keep it cool when you kept on agreeing to call me over for more. Into me you fit as I fell flat on my face at your feet that evening, or so our folktale’s folly unfolds to tell…but of my heart you kept safely lit, as I peed you washed your hands and at my lips you kissed for forever had happened for us already, I could kind of tell. I felt trust circle us like a belt and could finally sigh cause after all you are my guy and sure, when women talk of love they hold onto the start and that’s no lie; of my guy though I hung up the phone with cries in my eye because now I know, while I love me, belonging to him is my reason why I continue to write and keep on marching on, for someday, one day, of us I will write a perfect song. This wild prose I got to share is one I deem free and of my heart. Could you believe still though, that where we are now is even more perfect than the start?

“It occurs to me that I am America…
I am talking to myself again.”
Allen Ginsberg, “America” (via tijeanduluoz)

of birth control - I use it too

Don’t talk to me about California like you know what she can do
All you really want is for your dreams to come true
But what will happen whence alas you’re there and no longer new?
Like stale bread for the taking, you’ll stand their waiting to start breaking
And others will just snort at your prayer and call it faking
As if orgasms were the only good part of love making.
I will not stand and let you become someone else
Shall I like the photographs you manipulate to convince us all
To justify what you see as if you’ve stumbled upon some prophet scapes and all?
Try and be cooler, will you not, please?
You know it’s called lazy when the highlight of my day is working on my knees
All women wear thongs but dare to tell me I am so wrong
Our fear of motherhood has challenged elegance in this virtual war of petty pingpong
And so I turn off my device at poorly written snarls to then concede to appease
I get it, us women we all want to be taken seriously
But of these lipstick fiends who pretend they are all about the peace
Please take your pills or don’t, choose your lover wisely and join hands with me.
For babies are not welcome here, they are no longer desired
Among human gods I ponder as cavemen gazed upon new fire
Like, how can you do that?
No woman really wants to do that
And for the record I am free as fuck to say that
Nor will I blame my boss for killing the soul I wouldn’t let in to grow fat
And no I am not ready
So fuck you for thinking this way of life is steady
My sex is mine
My escapade isn’t yours
Do you want things for free or would you rather be free?
Is there a solid answer? I am not sure.

Rapid fire comes blazing down the freeway northbound through homes of children who could understand war before they even knew how to speak of it.


Hiroshi SugimotoRevolution 001, 1990N. Atlantic Ocean, Newfoundland©Hiroshi Sugimoto


Hiroshi Sugimoto
Revolution 001, 1990
N. Atlantic Ocean, Newfoundland
©Hiroshi Sugimoto

(Source: designboom.com)

I am a pioneer in the Young Love Club
Never did I think I’d find myself here
Holding hands as we gaze through dashboards
We aren’t crumbling despite our perpetual self doubt and fear

How may I swallow you and keep you whole?
Must I amuse you by street lamp parade and the drunken good?
You’ve denounced yourself and your universal role
All to play ping pong for Hollywood.

I felt inappropriate pain last night as bullets or fire bombs poking from my inside out. Perhaps the inhalation of BBQ red meat got me feeling this way.   Or perhaps my head got me treading anxiousness that the jump I made 10 hours earlier, reaching for Kashi cereal above the sharp edged wooden consul that holds our trash cans, caved in and started a belated internal flush of blood that got me worried I would spend the end of my first July 4th in the US in years at Cedars Sinai Medical Center.

It was strange to surrender my car over and have my sister take control as my boyfriend rolled his eyes at my mentally imposed agony as we nauseously weaved up towards Mulholland and through Coldwater Cyn.

Who is to say the mind and the tummy aren’t so intricately intertwined?  I know this first hand from a live artistic experiment I made with 5 other powerful performers a couple years back: we chugged whole milk before a classroom with a 10 minute countdown… To know we were going to throw up beforehand was much different than the reality of my stomach really knowing as it purged lactose from it’s vegan (at the time) epicenter.

I don’t know my balance anymore.  Dairy and meat cause me much more harm than good.

“I’ll take my love on the bone, bloody and rare”
I wrote to you passively through the computer
Because I was startled by your bite; so hopelessly scared
That someday I might push u to the ocean’s deep uncharted floor
Perhaps we’ll stop kissing to start breathing
And you’ll need to surface to shore once more.
“I don’t know what you look like” I’ll say sometimes
I’ll love you till I’m blue
You’ll suffocate me through day break
But I will struggle and gasp and come up for you too
Thank you for calling me,
I was cooking when you did
So I turned off the oven and packed you grub
I didn’t want to show up empty handed
We hugged and sat and watched breaths form misty films
To reach you with my gaze and stay put, but still
Your eyes are moss and mine are pits
I dive straight into it
But first let’s get into it,
“Both of us loves me but only one of us loves you”
Suspended in love and mirrors so clear
“I don’t want to imagine my life without you”
“I can’t always tell you the words you need to hear”
Consider all the ways in which I may leave you
I’ve lost the greatest love I’ve ever known
And not to wave it in your face, but it’s true
We live as we dream, alone.
Your pupils are pools so clear and so cool.
Let’s grow true and through together and defy all the rules. 
Who’s to say who’ll go first?
To love me more than yourself, it hurts,
So please baby, please set yourself free,
Go quench that thirst!!