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B.C.I. [userpic]

(no subject)

December 5th, 2007 (02:42 am)

Like it never ends, it drives hard through me
on rotation with the seasons.
She is lovely though isn't she, dressed like such,
in her Elizabethan flesh and Cherokee soul.
She flutters, like a canary
lost in the confusion of a blizzard.
Like a flame in the fog, she lights the way
for the clouded soul and weary-eyed.
Where are you my silent voice?
When will we merge into completion?
Everyday hope is further lost and I wonder
to where my broken soul may find rest.
There is no rest.

B.C.I. [userpic]

(no subject)

November 23rd, 2007 (04:46 am)
sad

current mood: sad

I broke my nose. Didn't see my family. Drank a handle of Taaka vodka, hung out with Elise and her roommate Amanda for a bit and ate sausage, mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing. I think Jambalaya was going around too. It was all so good. I played with Ophelia until I decided to make the cable work on the TV, but it was to no avail. I watched movies earlier in the day with Alison (Shortbus and Girl Next Door). I am now abandoned, listening to Concrete Animals, since 10:30PM and I'm hung-over. But, but...I have a fresh pack of cigarettes, which is always a nice feeling. I left my southern, country seasoned pole beans at Elise's. I should go get those...

All in all, my nose hurts and it's 5:00AM and I wish someone hadn't abandoned me on thanksgiving.

B.C.I. [userpic]

(no subject)

October 26th, 2007 (03:39 am)

What the fuck am I doing to myself?

B.C.I. [userpic]

The Woman I Murdered

January 21st, 2007 (05:01 am)
melancholy

current mood: melancholy
current song: Verulf

I can't sleep.
My soul is carved from meat and it rots.
I have an injured body...

Everything begins to change and the wolf’s piercing howl in my heart seems to melt into the echoing, metallic hum that runs slowly into my ears like a river that courses deep into the core of a dark and damp cave on the side of a cliff. I remember what I was going to write about now; my hands that wrought the ghost that changed my life.

Snow falls. It's almost dark, twilight has begun, and the icy wind is like fire on my face. I'm trying to make it back to the lodge when she appears behind me. She can't stop herself and crashes into me, the edge of the cliff draws closer and closer as we, with our untrained legs in skis, are intertwined with one another. I grow fearful of falling over the side. The wind pulls like a rope tied tight to our bodies and the edge is mere inches away and its tempts our souls and hearts. What do I feel? I fall. I fall away from the side, she falls the way she only can, the only way my doing and gravity will allow. She falls over the side of the cliff, backwards, face up at me as she plummets downward until her back finds a place to perch ontop a tree coming horizontally from the side of the cliff. She lands on her back, and wraps her body like a bracelet around the tree-trunk. And I watch in terror as the woman exhales her last breath and it is the breath that will forever sting my soul.

B.C.I. [userpic]

The Tea Kettle

January 20th, 2007 (07:04 pm)

The tea kettle boils over, and over, and over upon my feet
but the burn feels like ice and it freezes my soul.
The static from the radio pulls shut my eyes and I see snow.
My stomach coils up in knots as I recall my dream from this morning
when I was shot thirteen times in the back and then tortured.
He pulls the flesh off my arm and eats it in front of my eyes.
Also the woman he strung by her organs between houses in the snow,
and my lover being stolen away by a madman who slits his wrists and drinks
himself down until his face turns pale and eyes sunken.
I remember the food he fed me. It tasted like iron.
The tea kettle whistles and my eyes open again.
The kitten in my lap purrs and kneads my leg.
Where have I been?

B.C.I. [userpic]

Ayn Rand

January 3rd, 2007 (09:31 pm)

"It's the things that we want or admire that enslave us."

B.C.I. [userpic]

Horoscope

January 2nd, 2007 (03:06 pm)
blank

current mood: blank
current song: Vashti Bunyan & Devendra Banhart

"The taxing aspect between the sun and the moon indicates that you’ll respond less than warmly to a request or suggestion from a friend or even a partner today. This could cause no small degree of confusion for the person in question, so keep a piece of softening blue agate to offset that temporary coldness."

B.C.I. [userpic]

A Eulogy To Love

January 2nd, 2007 (01:56 pm)
depressed

current mood: depressed
current song: Beethoven

A moment of credence is needed for my soul, a moment to adjust and decorate my last few drops of sanity in some order and understanding; because I am cancerous and tired. My bones are weak and my flesh crawls like spiders at the birth of a storm, to my cubby and in my cubby I wait for the time to pass as I twiddle away at my web, wating ever so patiently to capture another breath of life.

The days were dimal and short in my complacency of life. I kept my toolshed bare, other then an occasional catch, in which I would skin and devour my prey whole in apathy and lust. But I was a child before I knew love. I was a fool, and forevermore a fool in my niave insolence toward humanity. It wasn't until a warm August afternoon that I found hope, a prospect of my idolatry. And at first it was a slow progression, and for hours, I spent my life talking to her and indulging myself in her profound beauty and intelligence. We had hope. But It was my selfishness that brought forth the next move, and move indeed it was. For she lie in my arms, and through four months we lie struggling in love. We saw the sunrises of purity that fell forth from heaven upon our faces and through our kisses we could share the universe. We moved through old trees and ancient houses, through spirals of disbelief, for our love was god and the heavy hand of god pushed back the world and the world away from us is where we slept. We woke every morning in the arms of comfort and hope. In love, we strode across the existence of time and our four months were five years in our hearts for in our hearts we held no time....

(more to come)

B.C.I. [userpic]

Dostoevsky

January 2nd, 2007 (01:50 pm)
crushed

current mood: crushed
current song: Bonnie "Prince" Billy

"And in vain does the dreamer rummage about in his old dreams, raking them over as though they were a heap of cinders, looking in these cinders for some spark, however tiny, to fan it into a flame so as to warm his chilled blood by it and revive in it all that he held so dear before, all that touched his heart, that made his blood course through his veins, that drew tears from his eyes, and that so splendidly deceived him!"

B.C.I. [userpic]

Broken Legs

January 1st, 2007 (06:25 pm)
worried

current mood: worried
current song: silence.

If we walk on broken legs then they'll never heal...

I guess I'm the only one walking on broken legs.

B.C.I. [userpic]

Today

January 1st, 2007 (12:42 pm)

My life is over. Over the top I know. Why do I torture myself? I just want a happy life. That's all. Is that too much to fucking ask?

B.C.I. [userpic]

My Stranger Alejandro

December 28th, 2006 (11:02 pm)
sad

current location: my living room.
current mood: sad
current song: Leonard Cohen

Tonight, for at least a moment, my thoughts are on you Alejandro,
you drunken old man who murdered your wife for murdering your son because you slept with other women.
You ask me if Jesus was married. I respond, 'No I don't believe so.'
'Well then fuck you christ!' he yells, 'My question to you tonight is this my friend...'
I wait to see what this old drunken mexican has to say.
Finally after hesitating he belts it out--
--as though its been boiling inside for years, 'Jesus was gay!'
'Really,' I respond and he covers his mouth in shame. 'I'm a baptist,' he admits.
'I sit for a moment on the bus stop bench in the frigid darkness.
'What happened to you wife and child?' I ask. 'You don't wanna know...I killed her.'
'Why' I ask. 'Because she drowned my son in a bath because I slept with another woman, well two...
So tonight my question again to you is this...' 'Yes?' I respond. 'Was Jesus gay?'
'I don't know. I suppose so,' I said humoring him.
'I thought so,' he responds. 'I knew he was gay...I don't want a fucking thing to do with him then.'

B.C.I. [userpic]

If I Believed In Anything

December 28th, 2006 (11:32 am)
drained

current mood: drained
current song: Wolf Parade

If I believed in anything, then anything could come true. But these lonely mornings drain me before I can ever even awake. The world tastes of my bones and pulls away dissatisfied. Even my dreams haunt me in the pseudo-comfort of darkness and sleep. Where is my safeguard? Where has my soul gone away to? It's flee to the shadows, to wait in anticipation of the confusion to blow over. But here I am, a body, my love is beaten and bruised yet remains optimistically nonetheless. I am a resilient being. As I will always be. My love is stronger than my body. It won't give out. It aches, but remains strong...

B.C.I. [userpic]

Hither Come Thee?

December 26th, 2006 (05:04 pm)
lonely

current mood: lonely
current song: Bach "cello suite no. 1 in g major"

Hither come thee? My blood and tears,
such empty prostitution upon mine eyes and lie
do I upon my death as nails; and as such I float
upon pain, and misery, for until return will I be
a faucet under repair which leaks, for it is my heart that leaks
and fills my body with somber collections of bravery.
But it is the sunrise that falls forth under my eyelids and it is love
that fills my soul with light.
So I stretch, from here to death and back, never shuffling my feet
for it is desperate and great measures
one takes in thought and sadness in fear of losing love.
But it shall be my hope and work henceforth
which leads us unto a land of prosper.
For joy comes creeping slowly, from being ragged and walked upon
through heels of old tattered shoes, up into our legs like bottles that
hold our aspirations, and climb it shall up the ladders of our spine
and inward to our thoughts and thereforth we will hold our love
like a fire on a cold autum evening.
For in such a life as this life I've found the one that
holds me tight and ties me to such a line of worth.
For it is thee I love.

B.C.I. [userpic]

The Strongest Girl I Know

December 25th, 2006 (10:48 pm)
depressed

current mood: depressed
current song: Vatashi Bunyan

The strongest girl I know carrys weights heavier than life,
she bends like an acrobat and bleeds like a river.
The strongest girl I know has pain that knows no boundaries,
and thoughts of confusion that could dry up the ocean.
The strongest girl I know can laugh harder than the mallet of Atlas
and cry oceans greater than God.
The strongest girl I know has love that burns leaves of trees to ashes
and milks the trunk of all sap it holds.
The strongest girl I know's tongue is sharper than a butcher's knife
and can cut deeper than a guillotine.
The strongest girl I know can twist me inside out and upside down
she can mold my heart into shapes and keep it beating all along.
The strongest girl I know made herself this way
and the weakest girl I know lies deep inside.

B.C.I. [userpic]

If I could walk on water.

December 24th, 2006 (10:05 pm)
guilty

current mood: guilty
current song: silence.

If life swallows me up, where have I to go?
If death spits me out, where can I find hope?
Where is my horn?
My voice is broken and my heart is used up.
Every chance I save for myself ends up being used
on someone else and it's the walls of my soul
that come falling down to rubble and its this diamond
that is stolen from my keeping and I'm spent.
All I long for is to be understood;
I'm not as sinister as everyone makes me feel.
It's love I long for; it's compassion, and heartache
like my heartaches. I do my best to dodge me fears
like the punches of steel that they are all along
I try so hard to embrace the hateful faces of love and war.
At times they glare so hatefully down upon my weather worn wrists
like rods of pseudo-crassness breaking hard and breaking flesh.
But it is I who plants the splinter in my own side.
But I plant too deep and too deep to reach, so I cut it out.
And it hurts terribly, and I wish so deeply I had seen the reflection
of stupidity in my eyes before such ailments as this had entered my hands.
But fear washes me over like thick black tar; yet fear for what?
Fear of nothing. Fear of my idiocy, wherefore idiocy shine not upon
my wet cheeks and red eyes any longer. I long for hope.
But hope comes scarce when you run from the disease only you carry.
The disease of the self; for I'm but an ink drop in the ocean wide,
and It's my love for her which remains and only that before all else in life she is there.
I long for peace and clarity from out this storm. I pray for a chance.
For again, and again I fear this drought will dry me up and I will remain
nothing but a fish out of water. Pity my heart fate. Pity my soul and my love.
Pity me and give me hope. Grant me your staff of decision and let me lead myself.
For I all I want in life is her.

B.C.I. [userpic]

Happy Holidays

December 20th, 2006 (10:24 pm)
sad

current location: my living room.
current mood: sad
current song: The Presets

This year I'm spending Christmas all alone. Sarah is leaving for Dallas on Saturday and I'll be sitting, working, and then sitting more; awaiting her return on the following thursday...

Bah Humbug.

B.C.I. [userpic]

Somewhere in Mississippi

December 16th, 2006 (01:30 pm)
hungry

current location: my living room.
current mood: hungry
current song: Wolf Parade

Ago through hotel laments of
a star-crossed Louisiana.
Slow ride effluvium motion painters kiss silken skies
and a scenery reel change.
Enter and exit Wayne County,
paper tree graveyards and family villages.
Cities of botanical skyscrapers are elaborated
by the highway bullet accommodating
the neutral ideas of a caffeine paradise.
Through the highway sunsets
and close-curtain sunrises -- morning has a new name.
Green, red, yellow, white, and black -- the rainbow of an asphalt surrealism.
Mystical and silent forests hold the imagination and more,
wandering-n-winding through the possession of a hypnogogic hallucination.
Alabama kisses soulless black rubber with a gust of tonight.
Seemingly endless woods of silk spun arms and legs
host a metropolis of secrete spoken wild things.
A bathroom notice reading close door during use
and six months Santa signs on short-circuit lampposts
pepper Choctaw County with a laborious reality.
Seasonal swamps welcome us to Coffeeville
as a last warning not to eat the gas station sandwiches.
White wash houses from the depression
are like cottontails in the line of fire
while sun bleached shirts thrash in the sobering wind,
hanging for their lives on a clothesline.
Isolated and lonely we draw ourselves across
pinstripe paintings of state highway 84,
penciling in the things we won't remember.
100 empty miles until we find ourselves lost in somewhereville,
where music is the key to the doors we wish to open
and the envelope with the key is but a song away.

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