by xTx
I want to write things for you. New things. For you. For you in your regular house with its regular lawn and its perpetual paint on the walls that keep the day to day in check.
Where everything for you is expected I want to be there fucking it up for you. A hole in the drywall. A gouge in the hardwood. A scab in your mind.
I want to consume your waking; a high-pitched tone, a rumble, a rape, driving you insane you’ll
mow the lawn in crosscut patterns.
kick the dog when nobody’s looking.
swear at the people you love most
I want you making secrets behind the locked
bathroom door
basement door
garage door
New things that destroy you. I want to write what I’ve never yet written. I want you to feel the words scrape your skin. I want you drowning, inverted, incapable of speech: crying.
I want your dick hard.
I want you to regret the day you begged. I want you to beg me to make it stop. I want you to regret getting what you wished for.
I want to see you broken with it.
I will write those things for you.
New things.
*www.notimetosayit.com (effme)
November 14, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blog Archive
-
▼
2009
(479)
-
▼
November
(48)
- WHEN I GET HER LETTER
- Flowers are for Pansies
- These Nails Cause Me To Hesitate
- Fires Of The Night
- What Sign of Absence?
- I REMEMBER HAIFA BEING LOVELY BUT
- WAR
- advice to the newly divorced
- memorial day at the twisted parrot
- christmas
- ritual respect
- peach tree
- '61 was a hell of a year
- Black Maps
- On Relationships
- like yeats
- Booty Duty
- Before He Goes Bare
- IMAGINING HER
- reaction to the evening news
- The Jazz Musician
- Grounded
- THE CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRY
- THE DAMP KISSES WE WILL NOT HAVE
- TODAY I WANT TO SPIT GIGILO AT HIM
- LIKE GETTING THAT NOTE MONTHS AFTER
- Yellow Snow
- Ball-N-Chain
- First Tulip
- New Things
- The Art of Forgetting
- THE PHOTOGRAPHS, THE FILMY WHITE GAUZY CURTAINS
- The Hammer Gets Thrown Out Again
- The Real Me
- Conflict
- What I should have done
- NOT ONLY DID HE
- SUDDENLY IT’S WHAT I THINK OF
- All So Easy
- THE DREAM OF MY DEAD GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE, THE STRA...
- THE TOO DARK TUNNEL OF A HALLWAY DREAM, DESPAIR, T...
- Brain Of Hitler
- One Day After Work
- The First Hooker (or Dead Eyes In Chicago)
- these last few weeks
- hungover
- AFTER TOO MANY NIGHTS DRUGGED
- “IN THE VIOLET HOUR” ON A PAGE, MAYBE IN A POETRY ...
-
▼
November
(48)
2 comments:
347-255-nahtoooldforyou
Great stuff!
not too old. nope
Post a Comment