To Make Clocks of Men

Jingles like hammers when they’re bells at the doors
Wishing for nothing whence they cry evermore
We’ve ticked and we’ve tocked, till we dry’d up our heads
And we’ve lied to our mothers while we’ve laid in our beds
The imagery of ladders will be our staple tomorrow
Can’t question their direction, mustn’t question our sorrow
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My cat Clem broke his back this morning, when I got home at 5 from track and feild practice my parents had put him to sleep. January is a horrid month.

- And a funeral. My beloved pear tree was ruthlessly slaughtered by an angry boy in a man's body with a stick ( Read more... )

What we can tell ourselves,
- what hurts and end; ends because-
On my doorstep was a package,
- on the doorstep of my mind-

A package begging to be let in
Anonymous and Ominous - quite ready to engage
A pretty little package wrapped in pretty paper skin

Say, I can hear a heart beat louder than my own.
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The Song

I am not something you can hold
I am far from any means of understanding
My kisses are rarely physical...
But blessings wept from endeared knowledge
...I am not bitter like the many sands
I am not unforgiving, like untracked lands
...I am a dance with no rythmic master
I am the secret with no keeper
...I am a whisper soon forgotten
I may not slip ( Read more... )

Things I have observed ( Read more... )

Dear Pain, Sweet...Mine ( Read more... )

Hello,

Let me introduce you to a character in the show. You know, the one whose mouth says "Yes" while their mind says No?

I had a dream last night that all window seats are doorways into other rooms. Although some might take that for granted, it means quite a lot when you live in a room whose only door allows one direction of passage. A room ( Read more... )