06.29.10
I caught lust tying a noose around my neck
It's the unexplained that gets you when you obsess
I believed saying the truth would change the way that I felt
Lying to God ain't easy when you're already in debt
So long my friend
We'll never meet again
I tried so hard to stay
But it's too late for me
To fall in love in this world isn't enough
Where do you go? Who do you trust?
I find myself wrapped in the arms of emptiness
I can't stop running away, I can't find a place to exist
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
...
05.17.10
Horror stories flashing back at me
On my living room's tv screen
Same shade of black in her hair as mine
Selfish boys tracing fingers down our spines
She'll live tonight and then no more
And I'll be found on my bedroom floor
Red is the colour of royalty
In life or death, I'm still the queen
Horror stories flashing back at me
On my living room's tv screen
Same shade of black in her hair as mine
Selfish boys tracing fingers down our spines
She'll live tonight and then no more
And I'll be found on my bedroom floor
Red is the colour of royalty
In life or death, I'm still the queen
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
...
04.24.10
Do you see the poison sparkling in the sky?
Do you see the venom dripping from my eyes?
Let's go to prison, let's go home
Let's find a place where we'll never be alone.
Do you see the poison sparkling in the sky?
Do you see the venom dripping from my eyes?
Let's go to prison, let's go home
Let's find a place where we'll never be alone.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
...
03.31.10
I swear this is not becoming a picture blog but... I love my horses. They are my life.
Pasha (Prime Meridian)
Roo (Roo B Tuesday)
I swear this is not becoming a picture blog but... I love my horses. They are my life.
Pasha (Prime Meridian)
Roo (Roo B Tuesday)Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
...
03.28.10
He asked me questions I didn't even know. It felt as though a scandalous part of my life was triggered out of me. He took a taste of my tea and told me it was too watered down. He was referring to my life.
And I could taste him in the air, my arms felt him in my sleeves. He seemed too real to me. Like concrete under my toes; uncomfortable and cold. Pushing him back only sends me into space. It binds me in a spectral sanctuary, but I know that someday I'll crash.
He wrapped his hand around my wrist and led me to the window. My pulse filled his palm and I pondered what he felt there. He placed my arm back by my side. He climbed through the window and I laughed because I was terrified.
Standing on the other side, he asked me if he looked different, if he looked new. And somehow he did. He looked more like chocolate. He looked more like dough. And the tint in his voice sounded like fake diamonds and gold. The kind I'd worn on my fingers at the age of five. Like a startled little girl I asked him what he'd done. He told me he'd left his fears in the room beside me.
I reached out and I could feel them. They were sharp. I felt about to bleed. I tore off my tights and stomped my way up and over the window sill. My skirt snagged and curled away to reveal my thigh.
He kissed my lips. He told me I tasted like porcelain. Perfect but breakable. He touched my cheek and told me it felt waxen white. Easy to melt. He pushed his thumbs into my forehead and told me that was where my secrets were hidden. Then I knew I hadn't left my fears in the room behind me. I could feel them piercing me from the inside out.
He gave me a menthol cigarette and it choked my lungs. I missed the pink prettiness of my Sobranie Cocktails. He knocked his ashes into my hair and told me he liked the smell mixed with my perfume. I felt gritty and mean and beautiful, if only for a second.
He'd asked me questions I didn't even know. The answers escaped from my lungs like the smoke winding away from me. They were lost, gone, like a memory that never really existed. Those questions were the line between my life and what I wished it was. The line between me and him.
He asked me questions I didn't even know. It felt as though a scandalous part of my life was triggered out of me. He took a taste of my tea and told me it was too watered down. He was referring to my life.
And I could taste him in the air, my arms felt him in my sleeves. He seemed too real to me. Like concrete under my toes; uncomfortable and cold. Pushing him back only sends me into space. It binds me in a spectral sanctuary, but I know that someday I'll crash.
He wrapped his hand around my wrist and led me to the window. My pulse filled his palm and I pondered what he felt there. He placed my arm back by my side. He climbed through the window and I laughed because I was terrified.
Standing on the other side, he asked me if he looked different, if he looked new. And somehow he did. He looked more like chocolate. He looked more like dough. And the tint in his voice sounded like fake diamonds and gold. The kind I'd worn on my fingers at the age of five. Like a startled little girl I asked him what he'd done. He told me he'd left his fears in the room beside me.
I reached out and I could feel them. They were sharp. I felt about to bleed. I tore off my tights and stomped my way up and over the window sill. My skirt snagged and curled away to reveal my thigh.
He kissed my lips. He told me I tasted like porcelain. Perfect but breakable. He touched my cheek and told me it felt waxen white. Easy to melt. He pushed his thumbs into my forehead and told me that was where my secrets were hidden. Then I knew I hadn't left my fears in the room behind me. I could feel them piercing me from the inside out.
He gave me a menthol cigarette and it choked my lungs. I missed the pink prettiness of my Sobranie Cocktails. He knocked his ashes into my hair and told me he liked the smell mixed with my perfume. I felt gritty and mean and beautiful, if only for a second.
He'd asked me questions I didn't even know. The answers escaped from my lungs like the smoke winding away from me. They were lost, gone, like a memory that never really existed. Those questions were the line between my life and what I wished it was. The line between me and him.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
...
25.03.10
I've stopped listening. I've shut the door. I just want to be alone.
When someone's stabbed you in the heart all you have left is your own sanity. It's the thing that keeps you from falling over the edge. I've been taken to a slaughterhouse and I'm dying slowly by bleeding out. I'm hanging from a hook, the hook you put me on. And the thing is, there is no escape. You can't get out, you just have to wait for death and hope that it's quick.
The death of the heart heals for no one. Do not let it out of it's cage of ribs, do not let it free, do not let anyone near it. Even the most careful lover can puncture it. Love is not worth the risk of heartbreak.
I've stopped listening. I've shut the door. I just want to be alone.
When someone's stabbed you in the heart all you have left is your own sanity. It's the thing that keeps you from falling over the edge. I've been taken to a slaughterhouse and I'm dying slowly by bleeding out. I'm hanging from a hook, the hook you put me on. And the thing is, there is no escape. You can't get out, you just have to wait for death and hope that it's quick.
The death of the heart heals for no one. Do not let it out of it's cage of ribs, do not let it free, do not let anyone near it. Even the most careful lover can puncture it. Love is not worth the risk of heartbreak.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
...
02.28.10
This absence of your love seems to purify my heart. The creosote of hate that clogged my heart's walls has been melted away. Perhaps you think this is a good thing, but now all that is left is emptiness. My loneliness echoes inside of me with every beat. I hear it louder than my thoughts. Louder than my needs. Worse is how it feels; like a demolition site with a sledgehammer tearing through the walls.
My heart can hold nothing now. The fluids of memory seep silkily through holes of my interior. I chase them down the street but they slide out of reach into the gutters. Mixing with every other memory that has only been forgotten. I paddle through them looking for the only one that matters. You.
I can't bear the thought of draining you away like every other person who was once in your life. They pulled the plug on you as if you were a temporary cure for a temporary ailment. They took their daily dose of you, their liquid courage, until they felt immune. Immune to my disease. Immune to loneliness.
But you are my elixir. You're the only thing that keeps me buoyant above this rage. The rage of having nothing, not even the depth to experience something more complex. I know you've drifted away and dispersed into bits and pieces of the person I once knew but I'll swallow everything I can in hopes of finding you. This absence of your love has purified my heart but there is nothing pure in there. Without you I am sinking. I may just drown.
This absence of your love seems to purify my heart. The creosote of hate that clogged my heart's walls has been melted away. Perhaps you think this is a good thing, but now all that is left is emptiness. My loneliness echoes inside of me with every beat. I hear it louder than my thoughts. Louder than my needs. Worse is how it feels; like a demolition site with a sledgehammer tearing through the walls.
My heart can hold nothing now. The fluids of memory seep silkily through holes of my interior. I chase them down the street but they slide out of reach into the gutters. Mixing with every other memory that has only been forgotten. I paddle through them looking for the only one that matters. You.
I can't bear the thought of draining you away like every other person who was once in your life. They pulled the plug on you as if you were a temporary cure for a temporary ailment. They took their daily dose of you, their liquid courage, until they felt immune. Immune to my disease. Immune to loneliness.
But you are my elixir. You're the only thing that keeps me buoyant above this rage. The rage of having nothing, not even the depth to experience something more complex. I know you've drifted away and dispersed into bits and pieces of the person I once knew but I'll swallow everything I can in hopes of finding you. This absence of your love has purified my heart but there is nothing pure in there. Without you I am sinking. I may just drown.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
...
02.09.10
Call me crazy but I'm embarassed of the way you present me. You make me seem like this perfect little pretty person.
We both know this is such a lie. I'm a horror. A downright horror. I have a growl instead of a voice and I'd rather knock someone's teeth in than settle things rationally. I do as I please, so stay the fuck out of my way. That's how I am.
I dress to express, but the only expression I seem to know is "Fuck off". People call me a bitch and I laugh and point out that it's inked down my back. I know what I am thanks. And I'm proud.
I dress like a local prostitute but meaner. All the guys look, but they know they can't fucking touch me. I don't fight like a girl, I fight like a dog.
The girls around me call me a slut. I'll adopt it just like Kathleen Hanna does. These words that are supposed to hurt me do nothing but show me how empowered I am. I'm stronger than them. I'm too liberated for this day and age.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
...
01.23.10
"I am under the weather and over the water so no wonder I'm confused. The shimmers on the river match the shimmers in the air, and also suck: every two seconds I'm shaking.
"Take this," says my mother in her newly practiced German and I'm swathed in her faux fur cape, so black it looks real and so huge it fits over my actual coat. "Put the hood on," she instructs, "it's very Natasha."
Note how she didn't say, it's very Milla, or Sasha, or Tanya D.
Instead I am a cartoon villainess with purple hair and a permanent sneer. Which is half-true, anyway. "Bullvinkle I vill get you!" I cackle down the main boulevard; several small children look up and laugh. So does my brother who is gigantic and too young even though he's 23, and older than me by half a lightyear and too much frosting. But I'm catching up.
At 9 am New York time I walk to a cafe and ask for coffee with milk and sugar. The waitress grabs a can of whipped cream and assaults my drink with it. I thank her in broken bits of her language and search for somewhere quiet to laugh.
Our hotel is across the street from the zoo and the world is trying to tell us something."
"I am under the weather and over the water so no wonder I'm confused. The shimmers on the river match the shimmers in the air, and also suck: every two seconds I'm shaking.
"Take this," says my mother in her newly practiced German and I'm swathed in her faux fur cape, so black it looks real and so huge it fits over my actual coat. "Put the hood on," she instructs, "it's very Natasha."
Note how she didn't say, it's very Milla, or Sasha, or Tanya D.
Instead I am a cartoon villainess with purple hair and a permanent sneer. Which is half-true, anyway. "Bullvinkle I vill get you!" I cackle down the main boulevard; several small children look up and laugh. So does my brother who is gigantic and too young even though he's 23, and older than me by half a lightyear and too much frosting. But I'm catching up.
At 9 am New York time I walk to a cafe and ask for coffee with milk and sugar. The waitress grabs a can of whipped cream and assaults my drink with it. I thank her in broken bits of her language and search for somewhere quiet to laugh.
Our hotel is across the street from the zoo and the world is trying to tell us something."
Monday, January 18, 2010
...
01.18.10
Conceit
Helps me hold my head up high
So I might look you in the eye
I'll face you with a brazen stare 
So please tell me you're not scared
...
01.18.10
"Harvey Oswald's dead and gone
He took the last train out of town
One minute man has cocked his load
Yes baby, rooster on parole
Fall into an abyss
Won't you give me just one last kiss
Valium knights in my bed
Only now, he's a vagrant in my head
Golden love is holding on
Holding onto what we had before
JFK's sun went down
He left the thorns of fallen crown
Marilyn Monroe's come, I'll swallow
She is the guts, the glory, sorrow
I'll take it all, give me more
I will be your hero and your whore
Valium knights in my bed
Only now, he's a vagrant in my head
Golden love is holding on
Holding onto what we had before
Loneliness, twilights gone
I don't understand where we went wrong"
xxx
Beautiful words Brody
You're a doll.
"Harvey Oswald's dead and gone
He took the last train out of town
One minute man has cocked his load
Yes baby, rooster on parole
Fall into an abyss
Won't you give me just one last kiss
Valium knights in my bed
Only now, he's a vagrant in my head
Golden love is holding on
Holding onto what we had before
JFK's sun went down
He left the thorns of fallen crown
Marilyn Monroe's come, I'll swallow
She is the guts, the glory, sorrow
I'll take it all, give me more
I will be your hero and your whore
Valium knights in my bed
Only now, he's a vagrant in my head
Golden love is holding on
Holding onto what we had before
Loneliness, twilights gone
I don't understand where we went wrong"
xxx
Beautiful words Brody
You're a doll.
Friday, January 8, 2010
...
01.11.10
It's been a long time, but I wish it had been longer. Maybe then we'd have something to say or maybe there would be nothing to say. Either way would be less painful than stumbling through the same old accusations.
You're the kinda guy who tries to talk without words. Rough sex means you're thinking of someone else. Making love is like an apology. Either way, it's never anything good.
I tried telling you why I walked out on you that night. All you said was that I was wrong. I'm always wrong in your eyes, and you're always perfectly right. People often say that you should try to see from the other person's perspective, but all you see then is another tainted window. I try to see from neither of our perspectives.
At least I can admit when I'm wrong. This is something you've never learned. I try to lead by example, but all I ever do is prove you're right yet again. You don't understand, whether from lack of intelligence or from purely being stubborn, I can't say.
I tell this to my friends and they ask me why I even bother hanging onto you. I tell them how refreshing it is to be treated like dirt when everyone else I know looks up to me. They're always searching for my approval and I'm sick of having the final say. I like how you treat me like shit, you're something to push against, and the harder I learn to push... the stronger I'll be.
It's been a long time, but I wish it had been longer. Maybe then we'd have something to say or maybe there would be nothing to say. Either way would be less painful than stumbling through the same old accusations.
You're the kinda guy who tries to talk without words. Rough sex means you're thinking of someone else. Making love is like an apology. Either way, it's never anything good.
I tried telling you why I walked out on you that night. All you said was that I was wrong. I'm always wrong in your eyes, and you're always perfectly right. People often say that you should try to see from the other person's perspective, but all you see then is another tainted window. I try to see from neither of our perspectives.
At least I can admit when I'm wrong. This is something you've never learned. I try to lead by example, but all I ever do is prove you're right yet again. You don't understand, whether from lack of intelligence or from purely being stubborn, I can't say.
I tell this to my friends and they ask me why I even bother hanging onto you. I tell them how refreshing it is to be treated like dirt when everyone else I know looks up to me. They're always searching for my approval and I'm sick of having the final say. I like how you treat me like shit, you're something to push against, and the harder I learn to push... the stronger I'll be.
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