To ere is human

Ah this frivolous posture and screen fix we call life
Can send me diving into a well of wish wash old garments.
My wild over examinations on human concept of interaction,
can send me head first to roast and crack my skull
like the head of a succulent mythical beast.
Who could ever wish to endure such gargantous passion
that implodes and eventually does explode
in your hands, mouth, or teats.

[Scoffs]



"To ere is human, to forgive divine"

-Alexander Pope

La vie Parisienne

I would a bitch too, if I was almost 100 years old and haven't croaked,
but by Jove; You are an amazing accomplished artist.

Long live Louise Bourgeois

Una Noche: Part Deux

Our story was lost somewhere and we know that..
or much to the effect, I swell to know...
what now?
the tangent of dreams, the soft cool touch of skin
is there more to the taste of me, for men?
Wine stained lips swing and sway some...Memory
Through the daze gardens we dwell in muck
we touch the rain dew leaves, and squint
at the seaming glitter of the birthing sun
and we strip our heavy clothes off....

oh what season, what perfect reason and view for a fuck

Nocturna

The pressures that soften the cage
soft wells of skin
they sink whilst you sleep
Shape of your structure
the skeletal ardor
corrects the idea of perfection
prefer the status of an idol...
to always love you

As prayers do plead
120 days I ask
a beautiful arch, an invitation
for the arms of the lost
illicit, forbidden

we have our reasons

Sworn to solemn

I'm being depleted in circus senses of feeling
Learn to hold on tight to the skin on your back
before your hands meet mine
Complications arise to act upon our silent circumstance
What can I say? I shone true teeth
This youth tattoo of our modern limbs
is temporary paint that can last per say, three decades
Oh this musical ear, and this fear.
I crave the iris twins that live in water
and the milky sand of your lily white hands
Future stages of sin in this well-staged script
I cross my legs and pray, I cross my legs and pray
Mein Kraft, Upstage my bitter monologue,
swell the conservative audience to an encore
Claim this trophy wise, of lips and thighs
Swallow the seconds slowly
like a wind, a foreign steal
I sing warm whispers to keyholes,saints, and lover's ears.

dream to dream,let me earn a cast iron ring.

glass past

My musical soul is trapped in another decade.

There's not a single dry soul in this city who roams the way I do. At least 2,000 thoughts cross my mind each day and hide in the pockets of my brain. I'm going cold turkey. Lets see how my cells attack each other. Currently they are dancing to "Vitalic". I hear them swishing around to compose me a lovely headache. I think they want sleep. I probably should agree but I am addicted to music and Last.fm. But never the less, I am here because I miss my youthful rants about current events.



Last Wednesday I saw "Paper Heart". I didn't think Michael Cera was dreamy til then. I was the only girl in the audience. Actually I was the only one in the audience come to think about it, and by Jove it did not bother me. I enjoyed it, really. I saw it fit with my mood at the time. Which brings me up to speed; My moods and I are sort of detached at the time. They need time review the value of the people in my life. My ego provides some sort of "caste system", which leaves me numb and impermeable. School's great, I just could have hoped for more time of to dwell in my most current artistic measures. My boss is going to introduce me to one of her formal employees'. He is studying film, very shy, and according to her..he is pleasing to eye i.e. "Handsome". I think she's trying to play matchmaking. Which is hard in my case, because I tend to have a flavor of the week and I lose interest so quick, its short of disease. I guess it won't hurt to find somebody with a worthy common interest. This city lacks so thought and etiquette. Olympia is looking quite spiffy right about now.



I love Juergen Teller, and that is all.