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Scorpio & Gemini
  • Gemini, glaring at Scorpio: Annoying child. You make me sick, your the scum between my toes, ya bitch.
  • Scorpio, raises her eyebrow: Hypocrite boy. Still upset that Build-A-Bear Online got shut down, childish self. Calls his teddy bears, his "babies".
  • Gemini, gasps: They have names you asshole, it's Digimon and Jumbo the Cat
  • Scorpio: Why are we even friends?
  • Gemini: You know why
  • Scorpio: Shit, you right

Walk with me. Walk the broken past, named and not. Walk the splintered plank, chaos on both sides, walk the discovered and what cannot be discovered. Walk the uneasy peace we share.

Walk with me,through the night,the night air, the breathing particles of other lives. Breathe in, breathe out, steady now, not too fast on gassed lungs.

…Walk with me, walk it off, the excess fat of misery and fear. Too much to carry around the heart. Walk free.

—  Jeanette Winterson, Gut Symmetries

I take a walk every morning and I almost always come across something interesting.

I like to show her what I’ve found.

Sometimes it’s a dead bird.

Sometimes a pretty flower.

And sometimes it’s a an entire anthill devouring a Vicodin that’s been dipped in honey.

Taurus & Libra
  • Taurus, shoving her face with a hot pocket and sticks of pocky, stressing out:
  • Libra, patting her back soothingly: It's okay, it's okay Taurus- life is gonna stress you out and its okay to not always have a strong face but
  • Libra: Who the fuck told you that ham and cheese hot pockets were okay to eat in my presence- matter of fact, anybody's?
Gond a gondolat.
A gond ölet.
Nem mindegy hogy te ölelsz, vagy téged ölelnek,
hogy ölnek, vagy megölelnek.
Hogy részed lehet-e az ölekben, mik ölelnek, mielőtt megölnek.
Hogy neked dőlnek ha eldőlnek,
Vagy bedőlnek ha erősek.
Ha erősek, akkor kellesz-e,
Vajon észreveszik, ha mész messze?
Ha messze mész, ott vár-e más,
Egy új világot hozó megváltás!?
Hogy váltsa le a búdat a mindennapi gej-öröm,
Ne legyen több- Fej-töröm.
Töröm a fejem, kattog az agyam,
Hova kéne fül még, hogy magamat hallhasam?
Hogy halljam a hangom, hogy magamra hallgassak,
Hogy végre ne csak alva álmodhassak.
Hogy végre álom legyen minden órám,
Hogy ne álljak itt még tétován.
Té-tova, én-oda,
Még-soha, már-soha.
Vala-hova, ides-tova,
Tele-van a, kutya-fasza.
Gondolkodtam, ezen is meg azon is.
Az elképzelésen, meg a valón is.
A szépen, a jón, a csúnyán, a vidámon,
Majd szólok ha közben magam megtalálom.
— 

H.P.

2017.04.06.

Gond(-)olat

My mum asks:
Whats wrong?
I tell her
it’s the rain,
it’s that i’m tired,
it’s the hangover.
But im lying.
Its you,
and her,
and everybody.
I mark scratches on my body
to see
how i felt
when i was honest,
when i drunk.
If you mind, i got drunk.
And if you mind, i got home,
without you.
Yes i did,
because you are not here anymore.
You left as everyone does and did,
You left as i said you would.
You said you’d never,
and fuck
You did the exact opposite,
You liar.
I hate you.
Or at least i wish i could.

There are leaves
there are trees
there is a tuba vine
“she”– a voice
she sings in other
words than what
disc grooves carry:
your name your face
our privacy in
hotel rooms with
cheap vodka cheap
quinine water our
nights are days
the morning comes
and goes and we
are pleased or
“who cares?” We
saw that view
of shimmering tall
offices. Today.
Today is muggy
gray – I don’t
mind: why care?
Today you see
another view
desk and win-
dow ledge, while
mine – my view
that is – is
window ledge
and desk. Do
I miss you?
You know, yes
and I know,
no, you are
so with me
when apart, I
think I under-
stand you and
you me: I’m
happy as a rained-
on leaf or
lettuce in a
crisper. You
love me and I
reciprocate.
The leaves –
it’s almost
fall – look
to last for-
ever – they will
come tumbling
down. I’m glad
we are not
leaves, or even
trees whose twigs
mesh. We are –
you are you,
I am I, and
we mesh. And
to ourselves
we speak our
thoughts and
touch and that
is love, isn’t
it? What Doc
called, Gen-
ial contact.
And lighter
than a zeppelin
the sense of
touch brushed
lightly one
against the other
we two, together
here among the leaves.

James Schuyler, “We Are Leaves”