ivory and hollow

sea shell solid your lips
like two berries crushed
rushed into this didn’t think what
consequences lay ahead,
middle of the road split apart
by white lines, nose bleeds
pinned to the eyeballs you’re
nothing anymore, you’re white dust.
reactions, holes in walls that make
our fists bleed, knuckles white like
the way your eyes look
with pupils rolled back.

beads of this leaking out
from creaking pores,
bones are piano keys,
ivory and hollow.
your lips like a bruise.

the result of watching a play ten times in a row. i am now dreaming of white powder, of leon trotsky, of mauve walls and a man with a wrench.

i look at photos of my mother’s wedding day and it makes me wonder, it makes me sad. and i wish i had known her then, before she had her heart broken. i wish i had known him before he learnt how to abandon people.

i am thinking too much today. i feel like grabbing my camera and taking photos of the city.

xo;

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August 5, 2006

I wish I could remember what my mother was like when I was younger, those memories are impossibly few. I mostly just remember the abuse.re: I really think I might do just that. He threatened to sell mine, I can do the same with his.

August 6, 2006

after reading this i dont think i can breathe again. xx.

August 6, 2006

oh how i have missed you darling. i hope you are doing well. i know youre busy. its good to know you are okay. i love you ;;

August 6, 2006

your dreams are so dada.

August 6, 2006

you write so beautifully,it never fails to take my breath away.i wish i knew my mother before she was forced into studying medicine (even though she only wanted to paint and draw all day),before she met my father.but turning back time isn’t really an option,is it?xxx

August 6, 2006

i wanted to do the same, take pictures of my neighborhood from the el, abandoned staircases, kid’s toys left on low rooftops, graffiti by casper “i’m sorry mom for my crazy life”… if only i had the gift to capture such things beyond words. all the way in brooklyn, nyc i hold you close to my heart

August 6, 2006

bones are piano keys,ivory and hollow.yes. yes.i love you, kim. wish i saw you around here more often.things just aren’t the same without you, you know?laura

August 6, 2006

aw. this was BEAUTIFUL. Love it. And i’m sorry about your mom, and her <3. xx

August 8, 2006

Ten times? Was it that good?

August 8, 2006

i dream about white powder. then i usually go and find some. i wish i could be in another play.

August 8, 2006

I thought the very same thing about my mother recently.It filled a hole inside me with something even more vacuous.

August 8, 2006

this is exquisite.. sometimes i think i think too much about things that would have/could have been..

August 8, 2006

ryn; i keep thinking “things don’t feel the same around here anymore”only…they haven’t felt the same for a long time, you know?i suppose eventually i’ll have to draw the line between how they used to beand they’ve come to be.some part of me keeps hoping we’ll have that back someday, though.if it ever does return, i’m sure you’ll be at the heart of it.<3,

August 8, 2006

i missed your writings. <3*hugs* i wish i knew a few people before their hearts were broken too.they knew how to smile and laugh, back then. <3 jo.

August 9, 2006

i see what you mean,but i’d rather get something less on the front and more on the back.my two other tattoos are on the front of my body,and i don’t want it to be too clustered,haha.anyway,we’ll see.i might wait another year before getting it.xxx

August 11, 2006

humans, we bruise so easily.

August 12, 2006

Put em (the photos) on your diary.

August 13, 2006

sorry love i left the morning before you left me that note.

August 19, 2006

i believe trotskys final act involved a hatchet and not a wrench, but i could be wrong. stranger things have happened.