Ineffable Soldier

And then goodbye

Brave man
boy inside the eyes
cherished glimpse of soul

Awkward, desperate, hungry
Comfort-care, bodies mold together
Too foreign still to interpret

And then alone

Fate to term
Termed to fate

Undone By My Tongue

You know you need to get a life when 4/7 nights a week you have a dream about the people in one of the blogs you haunt and feel more alive by somehow being part of their world.

Three days left in this city.
This was the greatest adventure that I have had in 8 years, and it kicked my ass.
I am getting old, and by that; less adaptable to the chaos without an island of foundation to cling to.

I could go outside.. but it is cold, and my bus pass expired, and there is beer here;
I have decided to become a ragging alcoholic for the next 3 days, so I can avoid all higher levels of thought.

I am drinking a beer called Taiga.

It is from a little town in Quebec called Amos, which is supposed to have the best tasting water in north america.. maybe even the world...who knows; something to do with sand.

Anyways, the story behind the beer is fun.
Apparently a Belgium brewer moved to Quebec and set up shop in this town with amazing water to make the perfect mariage of beer creation- the end.

It is very decent.

Now this is the stuff that knocked my socks off

But I am very partial to fruit beers.
This stuff could make my cocktail-drinking girlfriends start to like beer.
Thankfully, this site:

www.alberta-liquor-guide.com

told me that i can actually find it in 4 locations in Edmonton.
Hello new favorite beer.

I also recently tried this:

It is good.... too good.
But seriously, who wants to pay $12 for one beer...
Ok, I would do it again.

I guess one of the few things, on the very short list of things, that is not terrible about leaving, is that the province I happened to have been born in, and that i now have to go back to with my tail between my legs, has a private alcohol market and a large variety of alcohols available.

In other ground breaking news:

My tongue has been annoyingly apparent for about a month.
After the preliminary panic of emminant death, disease, and a fear of the general crisis of rotting, and, when my body didnt naturally make it go away like it would eventually kick to the curb any type of weird cold virus, I did some internet reading.

This is NEVER usually a good idea for a normal person let a lone a slight-hypochondriac, but i stumbled upon some literature about tongues and a lack of vitamin B12 and iron.
Being that I have been an extra bright shade of white lately (so pointed out my roommate-x-lover) and that I havent eaten dead cow for about 10 years, I was able to put 2 and 2 together, oh so sherlock holmes-style.

I guess clams are somehow high in iron, and my roommate had a stash of CHINEESE canned baby clams sitting in his pantry.
Please agree with me that it seems somehow OH SO WRONG for these clams to be from China, and i felt dirty as I devoured them.
But, my tounge stopped bugging the next morning- and so there it was.

So, as I for no strongly adamant reason discontinued eating dead cow, i now, for a superbly adamant reason, could not get the idea of this pink flesh out of my head.
I set out to the grocery store to search out a peice of organic dead cow's flesh.
I figured at least this way i could have the merey little picture of happy cows dancing in my head and I ate them.
I settled for an organic meat lazagna.
I ate it: and I felt satisified, and horrified, and warm, and heavy.

Another sad semi-vegitarian is corrupted and undone by her tounge.

Fuck You

Fuck You Impulse disguised as Instinct
Fuck You The Shallow Penis
Fuck You Failed Love
Fuck You Failed Experience






Fuck You Something Is Learned
Fuck You The Sad Departure
Fuck You The New Beginning







Fuck You The Committee of Self-Censorship
Fuck You Anxiety
Fuck You Fear
Fuck You Submission







Fuck You Naivety
Fuck You Uncertainty
Fuck You Reality
Fuck You Debt








Fuck You Cruel, Seductive Hope

Hate that is an Act in a Life of Satire and Hilarity

Sensitive elation to the disruption I cause you
My candor is grand

Symphonic typhoon
Your body shakes with its furry
Detached fascination.

The always-conclusion:
Convalescent Rejoinder
Convulsed Truth

Snail without its shell:
Focused-burden of shelter
Course nexus of flesh:
Lost in the obsession of composure

Still observed
Essence Reflected
Distorted comprehension
Percipience-Still

Bigger than Myself is Somtimes Hard to Bring into Focus

I wanna, kinda, sorta just.... flow
Through every pore, eyesballs, fingertips, the breath that leaves my lips;
let it spread out from the core and touch everything

Eyes meet and i wont look away.
I will look into you and see you; nothing will be hidden.
Then you will talk; clarity shattered.
I will, look away.

The rain brings everything together.
Chemicals melt down my face
Unknown liquid substance soaks up my legs
Dilapidated decorum

Then there is snow.
Thunder and lightning and snow

Anything can happen

Moments of Small Scattered Joy That Are, In Fact, My Happiness

I always get myself into completely absurd situations; an old habit of circling the fringes of expectation, elongating arousal through deliberate chaos.
My new sejour is no exception.
The past month I have gone through my whole repetoire of emotion.

I feel more alive than I have in years.

There is winter rain here.
It's warm, and leaves craters in the snow.

A mist has been hovering in the city.
Morning until night there is only a soft white blur: no sun, no buildings;
pieces emerge only bit by bit, swallowed again with passing.

I am a vaccuum terrorist

A Bright Past

I wish you were still trapped by time, A happy decaying memory

What was
is now
will be
attenuated

Why Cable TV Makes Me Wish I Could Perish in A Car Accident

Inside a sphere
Inside a fold
Inside a crinkle

Lived a spark
Herald-hark
Express as air

Inside a sphere
Inside a fold
Inside a crinkle

Upshot a load
E-threshold
One sizzled hair

Inside a sphere
Inside a fold
Inside a crinkle

Came forth a blast
Iconoclast
Thank God: A spare

Axiom

It does burn bi fold.

Intensity-actuality.

Naked incandescence.

Adulteration

Here we are at the edge.
Step up
Step off
Jump over

Past the light is blindness
Jube-jube love
Crimson lie
Ashen lust

Im fucking tired of stagnation.
Putrid lives
Pointless drive
Impelled decadence

Meridian

humidity
wet earth
evergreen

Elixir-perfume

Sun-heat
salutary breeze
amaranthine sky

Contented exhaustion.

Scintillating moment.

Concrete ubiety.

Adore-serene.

Will you come again?

Inopportune Independence

Adamant, strong, rigid:
The Vacillator.

Vulnerable, exposed, denuded:
The Boy.

Artfully crafted,
Abominably crippled.

Power:

My Tormentor.
My Lover.
My Friend.

I like you, But I Don't Miss You When You're Gone

Shield: scratched and tarnished by the indignities of foreign tongue.

Subsistence: warm outer layer, adamantine core.

Emaciated heat,

My erection cools.

The Buisness of Breathing

There has to be a point to all this madness.
And if the point is the madness; that sparks and dies
And the spark is it
and the death is it
Then the moment is only good while it lasts
Because everything fades and is forgotten with time.

Scintilla

Peachy colored wall, peeling paint.
Red earthy gravel, stained white door frame.
An open doorway, an impartial darkness.

This is where things end.
This is where things begin.

Finite moment, infinite impression.

Why am I so afraid of Silence?

Dark room.
Grey Walls.
Stone door.

Sun glare.
Green fields.
Blue sky.

I would walk along that grey pavement forever.
I would raise my hands and feel the wind on every inch of my body.
I would thank the universe for this moment of existence.

In a dream, there would be nothing.
In a dream, there would be no clothing.
In a dream, there would be no language.

In my world there would only be bright colours
In my world the lions would grooms their paws
In my world the vultures would never land

I am a woman,
Thorned green vine exploring.

You are a stranger,
Smooth blue vine expanding.

The world will end and there will only be moments.
The world will end and there will only be grey.
The world will end and there will only be colour.

I see
I want
I feel.

Killing Me Softly

Change sneaks in between breaths
Days mere moments in between dreams
Tomorrows a light hearted delusion of the young
Time concurs.

I Bite My Lip in Remembrance of You

Broken, broken.
Cracked through the center
Spun silk and ragged glass
There is, after-all, an ending

Sugar coated flesh
A dove lost and covered in ash
Impossible chords
There is, after-all, a beginning