Monday, September 30, 2013

detox my soul / the me that loves the you on display

why does my mouth feel so
ungrateful today
the words are just new sounds
expressing old dismay

---
We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, "Oh, nothing!"
---

I met him on a late autumn afternoon - the sun was setting and the air had begun to turn chilly when I happened upon him wandering the sidewalks like a stray cat, lost and unconcerned. 

I had finished my classes for the day and decided to walk home with Wendy, who lives just down the road.

As we turned the corner, a figure appeared to be walking - or rather, drifting at a glacial pace - toward us, head down and staring intently into his phone. He took notice of us at a distance and angled his head skeptically, squinting into the sunlight, then waved at us in a wary, unconvinced sort of way. As we drew closer, he broke into an unexpected grin.

"Hey," he said, putting away his phone. It took me a moment to realize he was addressing Wendy, not me.

He approached us with small, unmeasured steps as if in the midst of trying to remember something. This demeanour of his persisted throughout the encounter, right up to its conclusion. Even when he began to engage Wendy and myself in idle chatter his eyes betrayed the distinct glaze of a person lost in daydreaming. 

"Hey. Where are you going?"
"W h e r e am I g o i n g? Good question. Home. I'm heading home."

His speech was that of a person talking to himself - subtle and uncertain - which gave him the impression of selecting his words carefully while being completely unconcerned with the end result. His face held an expression of blank and bewildered amusement and there flashed a wistful innocence in his smile, worn down and faded as if from overuse. It seemed as though he regarded our presence with a kind of amicable incredulity - recovering gradually from the shock of our sudden intrusion upon his private reverie and still unwilling to unfasten his attention from whatever fascination had so firm and fixedly bewitched him.

---
"But some days you look up, expecting a familiar face or sign in the sky and it's not there."
---

i think i want to do things

---

They built a new bridge I have to pass beneath each day to get to uni - it's not at all pretty but I always stop to look at it

---

i want to make lists
i want to kiss


---
Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
---

to spend the whole of spring dreading summer
to spend each day observing its departure
to spend your entire youth trying to be older

---

a life comprised entirely of beginnings and middles -- the more I considered it the more implausible it seemed

---

so scared to infringe upon friendships, to admit the sin of being sad

---

headlights and silhouettes passed us by -- you lay your head tenderly in my lap, and we sniffed softly all throughout winter

Friday, September 27, 2013

burial song

have things ever been as good
as they've been in memory
or are they but wistful scenes
played out sad yet
remembered differently
shall i examine my mind
for the fingerprints of deceit
shall i lay my soul as bare
as i can bear it to be
then having been shown all
that i've needed to see
shall i find a corpse
where my dream used to be

Monday, September 16, 2013

love you too

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time for my departure is close. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. There is reserved for me in the future the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me, but to all those who have loved His appearing.

Friday, September 6, 2013

青春の瞬き

Summer had faded, leaving a scent of wistfulness in the air. A minor chord reverberated through the alleyways in the evenings as concrete facades of the town were painted a heavy gold by the cloudless skies and reluctant sun. Something about the long, stoic shadows cast by towering telephone poles made the familiar byroads seem slightly forlorn, like a loved one watching you leave. The end of summer brought on an atmosphere of change, with postboxes and afternoon antics left haunted by the equinox's valedictory gaze.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

hey there delilah

i was sixteen when a pretty french girl let me whisper in her ear
i studied her nape and quivered
words into her hair
will you break my heart i asked
her back so gently arched
why not, i heard her murmur
like a narrowed valve

yeah, right