I dream of your hands. Licking your fingers and palms, smoothness gliding inside of me, teasing. I dream of you, with me breathing. Your hardness against my softness; your solidity immersed in my fluid. Softly, softly, rocking together. Dappled sunlight dreaming of you golden. Cannot remember you never not knowing me. Inside. Tasting your strawberry tongue, your cherry lips and your caramel words. Sighing. Love you so much. Needing. Colour flashing through my closed eyes to blind you with their resonance – quicksilver. Me, moon, transmuting your brilliance to create my own soft light, like blood. Emerald shouting beauty for me alone – halos – your eyes – ringed with gold. Drowning.
Month: July 2003
cool sweet blue
We have a pool!
A bright, happy kinderpool filled with sweet clear water. It is 6 feet in diameter and covered with rainbow pride fishies. The rainbow pride fishies make me happy. The sun beats on our deck and heats it with burning rays, by 4 o’clock it should be solarkissed and perfect. I kid that we should add the pools exisistance to our roomaie ad.
Anyone want to come play?
Sliding Images
I’m stuck downloading images to be turned into slides at someone’s house. Gah. Been here all day. It would have been so nice to go to a picnic instead. The only good thing so far has been the playlist on the itunes thingie I found. Now I’ve a bunch of music to go and try to download when I’m home from the http://thisiscorrosion.com/ playlist. *grins*
Kaiser William Go Home!
I finally finished Dreadnaught today. Holy mother of all! I may have a better grasp of history, but I never want to read another word about armour plating in my life!
If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?
You sadist! You want people to think! – e.e. cummings to ezra pound
eroticizing wrongfully
I came across this article whilst wandering
She, the author of this article, has clearer words than I on this all too disturbing subject.
http://www.villagevoice.com/issues/0303/goldstein.php
they tore down my childhood home
Yesterday I finally had a chance to go see for myself where the old house used to be. They tore it down on Saturday and now all left is a hole in the ground. Not a stone of the house remained. I feel somehow that I’m less of a person because I’m not sad that it’s gone, that I’m only disapointed that I didn’t get to watch the wreckers crush it into the ground. My best friend was there to see them destroy it and she said she cried – thinking about the years, her childhood, she/we had spent there. I cannot seem to care about it. No tears inside me anywhere. I have looked. I have scoured the little looked corners of my nostalgia and have found nothing.
Is there something wrong with me?
Olympics
Here I am, just another among, I’m sure, thousands who have been posting about the announcement of our “winning” the 2010 Olympic bid. Another voice drowned in many. I’m sure I repeat others unknowingly. Perhaps I should go read what others have to say first…? Nah.
It worries me that the most heavily regulated city in Canada is going to be hosting such a large scale event. (We couldn’t even have Canada Day fireworks because of non-existant “safety issues”). Plus – since Expo, we have the highest cost of living in Canada! Wasn’t it estimated that everything went up roughly $400/month from that? After that, not only did prices continue at thier inflated level, there was an employment crash and mass exodus. Sure, we got the skytrain, but so? We have a train that goes to nowhere and circles back again and dies when we have more than four inches of snow. Our transit system overall is pathetic! Not to mention our health-care and artist cuts.
I think it unlikely that any of the money put forward for the Olympics will benifit Vancouver in any long-term way. I feel that it would be so much more worthwhile for the city to put money into programs that would benifit us locally. There should be a push to support our CITY and not our image. We have an image already. NoFunCity, remember? Let’s change that before we start putting highways in watersheds!
joining the march
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Meme – ories
Today whilst wandering the forgotten realms of old disks, I came upon an old hyperlink poetry page I used to have. Strange to find again old soulpourings about people I haven’t seen in years.
Looking through these old files, I realize that all these precious insights, these understandings that kept me warm at night – they are nothing now, no matter how true they might have been. Frozen crystals of clarity that have been glazed over with a patina of disuse.
I’ve recently become obsessed with an old relationship I was in. I’ve been wondering if I remember it the way it was or has my mind twisted it somehow to romantisize what I now wish it was? It doesn’t help that it was one of those dances that you can’t pin down at the time. Can’t impale like a butterfly onto a board. The steps can’t be studied, nor the movements compared to other pieces of random grace. I remember wishing to stab the beauty and preserve it, if dead.
It’s the weather.
This oppresive mix of heat and sky and cloud.