Love Nothing

"Take It Easy (Love Nothing)" - Brighteyes

First with your hands and then with your mouth
A downpour of sweat, damp cotton clouds
I was a fool, you were my friend
We made it happen
You took off your clothes, left on the light
You stood there so brave
You used to be shy
Each feature improved, each movement refined and eyes like a showroom
Now they are spreading out the blankets on the beach
That weatherman is a liar
He said it would be raining but it is clear and blue as far as I can see

Left by the lamp, right next to the bed,
on a cartoon cat pad she scratched with a pen,
"Everything is as it's always been.
This never happened.
Don't take it too bad it is nothing you did.
It's just once something dies you can't make it live.
You are a beautiful boy.
You're a sweet little kid but I am a woman."
So I laid back down and wrapped myself up in the sheet
And I must have looked like a ghost because something frightened me
and since then I've been so good at vanishing

Now I do as I please and lie through my teeth
Someone might get hurt, but it won't be me
I should probably feel cheap but I just feel free...
and a little bit empty
No, it isn't so hard to get close to me
There will be no arguments
We will always agree
And I'll try and be kind when I ask you to leave
We'll both take it easy
But if you stay too long inside my memory,
I will trap you in a song tied to a melody
and I will keep you there so you can't bother me

tick tock tick tock goes the clock

i feel like orlando
sleep is evil

i dreamt that i died
but before that i stole a lot of books
unknowingly
and met a handsome but balding prince of a guy
so it was unfortunate
that so soon after our meeting
we had to say a final goodbye

somehow it didn't make me sad
instead it turned me blonde
...?

words distract and dismay

the true story of what was

- ani difranco

the light blue flickering rhythm
of the neighbor's big console t.v.
is basking on the ceiling
of another insomniatic spree
and outside sleep's open window
between the drops of rain
history is writing a recipe book
for every earthly pain

oh to clean up the clutter of echoes
coming in and out of focus
words spoken
like locusts
sing and sing
in my head

and thing is
they often seem
in my memory's long dream
to be superfluous to
the true story of what was

cuz

real is real regardless
of what you try to say
or say away
real is real relentless
while words distract and dismay
words that change their tune
though the story remains the same
words that fill me quickly
and then are slow to drain
dialogues that dither down reminiscent
of the way it likes to rain
every screen
a smoke screen
oh to dream
just for a moment
the picture
outside the frame

then in a flash
the light blue horizon
spanning a sudden black
is sucked into the vanishing point
and quiet rushes back
to search for the downbeat
in a tabla symphony
to search in the darkness
for someone who looks like me

(though i'm not really who i said i was
or who i thought i'd be)

just a collection of recollections
conversations consisting
of the kind of marks we make
when we're trying to get a pen to work again

a lifetime of them!

cough!cough!ahem!

i say to me
now here listening
i say to the locusts
that sing and sing to me sitting
now here on the front porch swing of my eyes:
i hereby amend
whatever i've ever said
with this sigh