may 1st 2007

in the room of petting and rocking we sit and write the nicest obituaries, the principle of the matter is that one day you will make no sense and you will be fine with it. as blood drips from your elbows and you hold the stance of a true lover, crying with anticipation of pain and pleasure. so much beauty overflows her mind, even when you think she is uncomfortable, that is when she is making the best memories. hold on to your friends dearly and when the emotion fades away, dont hesitate to rip it back into action. people dont agree with you but in the long run, they dont care about you. -Anthony Elsewhere Riskey

There was a vapid heat that rises from the stench of the dead. We lay solemnly prodding at our heads. I remembered the days when you were scared and the days when you were tired. You came home with your wrists sewen together, thin threads done with brash needles. I carved you a seat from the wax of our walls and served you my palm as though it were a basket of fruit. You held your breath and I watched the smoke leave your eyes. A purley paled pupil lay idle on my floors as I scratched at my roots and bleed my seeds from the bowels. Your last life was spent whispering and I heard it in the back of my mind. It was the chilling tongue of a widow's remorse. The lines were drawn and then they fade in greys, porcelin, and alabaster ghost. - Clayton Endless Shaul