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dotsJournal: I quitdots
Mood: The Usual

Thanks for the memories, folks. I only log on here now for my own personal use. No disrespect intended - I just haven't had the energy or inclination to interact here for a long, long time. Besides, this site is a husk of what it used to be. Ciao.

...Created 2012-10-24 19:39:08

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: Still dead. Shoosh.

No real emptiness, just sleep.
Tired and forgetful, tired and forgetful sleep.

I know there is a distance and beauty to hope; how it moves
with generations, how the taste is non-existent yet wholly here
and now, cautious in becoming, diseased when left in the shade.

Arch for sunlight. Compose a dialect of octaves.
Ringing. Clearness. Confession.
Bruised restraint.

...Created 2012-10-02 12:44:10

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: Dead

Page closed.
Au revoir.

...Created 2012-09-26 05:54:27

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: Thinking...

your diadumenos, a genuflection in still waters, bearing light
over distance, and through the murky shadows of habitual


this is confinement when one forgets the notion of tomorrow,
detritus and the polished stain of wood, choral yet fractious.

...Created 2012-09-21 10:47:51

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: Sleepy

clearing centres
of everything holy, the detritus
and moonshine form of unbelonging

untied from this earth, an
umbilical severance

the music, colours, the emotive dialect
of eyes and other eyes drinking, knowing
when there is silence, tonal silence

in complete and somehow

...Created 2012-09-16 06:09:33

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: Tired

...Created 2012-08-09 09:24:46

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: Sleepy

i am my own vale of dreams
once spread beneath the limbs
of youth and neglected

...Created 2012-06-21 03:52:59

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: The Usual

...Created 2012-05-30 01:27:07

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: Sigh...


                                             with this approach

                                      to meet incoming dawn
                                 with more than composure)

           firelight, and the closeness of compassion.
      sibilance: of stained sheets and broken kisses

        at 4am, discussing the meaning of a journey
          when two would join hands and simply talk

and be slightly afraid of the answers given
with a freedom i say to you

is missing from
this world.



...Created 2012-05-30 01:25:46

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: Sad


moments distorted by
the prism of self-reflection

full, full, and yet unfilled by
thieving notions; a cup of blue

in my pocket, a silver needle
to thread sky and ocean through

as if it were always sunday
breathing, searching, freeing

over this dune and crest
of your body.


...Created 2012-04-18 04:21:14