becoming a person [one fragment at a time]


8.30.2001

i've burnt my tongue on this deceptively small mint and i want you to kiss it better

pomegranate molasses. giraffe?

the sloe gin drunk afternoon; bill peeing on the chair

purple tongued blurry eyed face in the mirror

today i paged a stranger

i am not gentle with my body

run like a river into your mouth

artificial hip. partial knee. three metal discs in the spine.

my hands bring many tiny deaths raining down on me

the rain is not like love

after midnight assignations with the bad boys i'd drive home wet between my thighs

it is raining ice pyramids, white chocolate chips

13 ways of looking at september

sinus of valsalva. venus of saliva.

i can imprint what i am looking for onto almost anyone whose physical form i find agreeable but if they are not of a substance that will support my vision, then it is no good and isn't love but rather an intricate lust.

8.29.2001

the white trash chef, working wonders with twinkies and velveeta

8.08.2001

caught between your hot breath and the cooling breeze of the fan, my nipple is like some strange experiment in averages


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