Porcelain Elephants

Thank you for being alive today. i'm really glad you're here.

Does anyone else feel like usafa/Colorado springs would be a great place for a prehistoric dinosaur uprising?

Anybody?

….

Hey buddy

I like the hole in your crotch.
And your flip-flops
And your thick-brimmed turtle shell frames
And your windbreaker.
Who are you, bro?

Growing towards the times
When the leaves will always leave
Paths scarred and unscarred

Love and Ratchet

My hair feels like hands
Even though my hair feels not
I can feel your love

I try so hard

I have tried so hard for YEARS to try and help my sister out with her life. And all I’ve ever gotten was disrespect and immense display of self-righteous ignorance.

What can I do when anything I do is worth nothing. I feel so useless.

A Deeply Sunken Kind of Love

You’re the table I walk round and round.
In such a circle, eternally bound
From people who look for what’s lost and what’s found.

Your poisoned roots grow from my limbs
By the fear that grows not dark, but dims
And keeps me deaf to such lovely sound,
By the chains that keep me tied to the ground.

What this is, is that I fear
The infinity which counts each tear
And fills the moats of which surround
My sunken heart, which longs to drown.

To Forneverland

Avoid the first and thousandth time
That we will miss each other.

I would take you which way
And what way and that way
To the wayward ground
Which is almost as underground
As your understanding of running away.

You ran through the woods hundreds of miles
But this isn’t another mile.
This isn’t you from me its we from everything else.
Stop your understanding and Overstand it!
And maybe you will see that the journey
Doesn’t have to end
Once you start it,
And you will see that there is no finish line this time.

Only an endless wood.

Why I Prefer The Term ‘Make Love’

stolenwine:

i once met a girl
who told me she didn’t like
looking men in the eyes
while fucking
because she didn’t like the idea
of letting someone
inside of her.

she told me not to use the phrase
‘make love’
because it implied that the act
was something it most certainly
was not,

i resolved to call it
the construction of affection
until the day i no longer had to
imagine
what it would be like.

when a boyfriend i’d had
for two years
told a friend
that we fucked regularly,
i told myself it was time to move
past him

and onto greener pastures
or at least some place
where the men could speak
full sentences to me
all the while maintaining eye contact
with parts of me
not made
to feed the children i hadn’t decided
that i didn’t want. 

to move past him,
if only for the purpose
of preserving my deteriorating
romanticism.

for the longest time
i convinced myself
that fingers were still flowers,
soft and gentle,
until the day they felt like
chainsaw parts
putting themselves together
inside of my stomach.

until the day i could not wash
their petals out of my body;
until the night i tried so hard
i almost ripped myself out from under
my own womb,

an empty home
for a human being
i would never create. 

i still believe
that whispers come from 
bedtime stories
that kisses are a product
of constructing affections,

i say i’ve made love
twice every day
to everything i see. 

in my mind,
the construction of love 
does not happen
when one human being
breaches the walls of another,

but in all the moments
leading up to it. 

i like to say ‘make love,’
but not in relation to the movement
of bodies in rhythm,
perfectly synchronized breath acceleration
and deceleration;

in relation to 
the movement
of one human being
through the flurry of all that exists
around them. 

too long ago to remember exactly when,
a woman told me
that there was not a word
for sex
that didn’t make it seem
like something it wasn’t. 

i told her
that sex was only
a very small part
of making love.  

Ask

People ask for asks because people want other people to be interested enough to take hammer to that crack in the dam holding back all the pain and suffering and happiness and joy and lust and love and wonder and awe.

Such a little thing, a question, a comment, some criticism…but such is enough to change paradigms, feelings, perspectives.

Wouldn’t you like to be the person to change a life?

I’m not talking about online chat forums or social media that hangs in front of a blue dashboard, I’m talking about getting outside and stepping on the path of someone else, a lover, stranger, acquaintance, parent, and shifting something in their mind.

Why not? There’s not nearly enough to lose,

So go and find something by giving something:

A blank line

At the end of a question.