I gotta see if I can really breathe in a room with a view :: song of the day


Keep Art Alive :: art by Joshua Petker

West of the South Dream Side
(by me)

Grey carpet and burgundy pillows,
strewn around without concern,
all of it inviting,
invisible permission,
to crash into each other,
feet to head, head to feet.

Will you teach me to make a lemon meringue pie?
to make magic with an old 50’s sewing machine?
How to forget the way his sweater felt,
the tiny balled up threads still clinging to my hair?

My face burrowed into him,
wind blur stung tears,
bottle of red wine,
half-buried in the sand,
hand and hand, hand in hand,
make the picture frame crack,
stop, dismount.

Pull back the nylon shower curtain shame,
the mismatched shapes and sighs,
you cannot see me if I just keep turning,
leaping, jumping.

Another five pills and my eyes begin to dilate,
the blackness takes me over to the west faerie bridge,
to the South side, girl,
to the South side wind.

And you were there,
and you, and you,
all in this Alice in Oz and her seven horned dwarves,
weave it all in my veins,
in the blood,
in my soul.
These are dreams that wake the dead.

I lie back on those strewn pillows now,
let my thoughts fall careless in a slip and slide pattern,
the water spurting out between my legs,
across a green summer grass stain.

You help me forget where the lines are drawn.


Justine :: Julia Stone

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