February 2012
24 posts
“It is a rare occurrence indeed that someone should have the ability to make me...”
– Paraphrasing Myself, circa Saturday night.
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I am an old-fashioned mix-tape making 80s girl with that Southern Emily Post/Junior League upbringing. Hell, I put my napkin in my lap at a fast food restaurant without even noticing I’ve done so.
And oh, how proud she would be, irregardless of our intentions. Her eldest with someone in your family. An appropriate Kentuckian family match. The irony is bittersweet on my tongue.
Bittersweet...
Too much work and too little play for the redhead.
Considering actually returning to red so everyone stops bitching at me.
Vote?
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bologna sandwiches at 5AM.
Reminded me of you. We haven’t spoken in a while now.
I don’t know if you read this anymore, but if I had to place a wager I would bet you do.
Maybe regularly.
Maybe some nights when you’ve had a little too much gin or whiskey or one conversation or another amongst friends led to me.
I know you were angry. Maybe you still are. I was.
I am sorry for never being what you...
This is why I can't have nice things.
jscottgrand:
I obliterate the years and miles between us like so many shots of whiskey until the voice I hear in my head like a nursery laugh spoiled by cigarettes is reduced to hot breath that smells faintly of cock and salted tears rolling down my back as I bare my teeth and press an eager mouth to your cunt because on nights like this the possibility of you is simply more than I can bear.
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almost a year ago.
we don’t call each other anymore
because.
I guess.
in the end we already salvaged what was left of our train wreck.
and you,
you don’t like that I don’t come to hear you play piano in overpriced bars,
that I don’t stay.
and I,
I can’t walk through our your house, with my furniture
still as I arranged.
a few things in dust laden drawers of the vanity in my...
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There are nights where time spills fast as red wine into a glass,
hours tripping over themselves to pass in shades of contentment
a tired, smile-worn girl crawling up jacquard cherry blossoms,
resting curls on pillows, one arm around a rhythmic inhale-exhale
to touch the steady warmth of dreaming auburn fur,
stretched across her landscape with loyal patience
before rendering submission in...
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honey,
you put me to sleep better than whiskey,
and all of big pharma should place you careful under the lens
cause you cure insomnia while inspiring contentment in the course of a few hours alone.
I am not patient,
I am not easy to grasp,
or relinquish affection to.
I am not a girl who comes along white picket fences,
or have the desire to.
I am another breed of something else,
getting...
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we balance delicate as goose down on trip wire,
mired in one discussion or other of our respective romances.
spoken softly today between meetings
how we managed to grasp the handle of the broom that cleaned up our mess with effervescent expedience.
and a mutual respect for one another’s solidarity,
when I said thank you I meant it,
there was no reason to laugh because I attributed our...
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most often I write from a bar stool in a place that could nearly be called Cheers,
except in difference, so little of the social dramatic dynamic comes from staff.
my pub is a dive on the bleeding edge of university campus,
distant enough to deter the freshman clientele,
and just near for the regulars to find their seats without conquest.
there is a loyalty innate to those whose footfalls...
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I can only write in two places:
Total silence
Utter chaos
Coalescing lines in contradiction.
I always been a strange kind of bird,
“soredemonao replied to your post: last night I dreamed the house again, you were…
My Gawd, every word from you is Gold!”
Thank you!
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last night I dreamed the house again,
you were chasing my silk summer skirts down spiral stairs,
tumbling down mock protestation beneath tree limbs and starlight.
I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.
picking out constellations while you pluck a steady stream of notes from guitar strings just above where thoughts are made.
Perhaps, sometimes, I should be less of an open book.
Then again, I would be less of myself.
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Nights I cut the engine off in time putting on perfume,
I know you are waiting a sidewalk and two flights above,
as I lie alone between sheets tonight, anticipation of you,
hands touching
teeth grazing
whip igniting
only autonomic reaction remains.
a daydream crosses thought as you pull my hair,
primal reaction stakes solid claim tonight.
I don’t mind because force of patience...
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Savage Lee Writing: Lost Your Link →
savageleewriting:
You know what? I can’t find that bit of spoken word you sent to me, and maybe I don’t care anymore. Maybe you broke my heart enough for now.
I wanted to take you to a prom, I wanted to show up at your door in something nice, and take you out in a fancy car to some fancy place where we’d eat…
soredemonao replied to your post: You should know, I am neurotic enough to have…
I love Clementine!
How could anyone not!?
Anonymous asked you:
his words to you were all lies, they always will be.
I wish they weren’t. Alas, life isn’t black and white for anyone.
We do what we can, we live with what we’re given, we forgive or we hate.
I would rather forgive. Write me anytime.
EDIT: To be fair, sometimes people tell lies or half-truths because they need to feel something, anything. I...
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it's been a minute.
There is one reason I don’t get featured these days,
a reason who hides behind lies,
calling truth his own to tell.
But he called me late at night,
to construct all-perfect lines drawn from Kentucky to New York.
I never lied because I don’t,
but I knew you had the moment you put me back in my car headed South.
Truth is, you will find success in ink that I never will,
but I...
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definitions.
I can’t hear a damn thing
past the sound system
the regulars
the new faces
ice and Friday’s frustrations kissing glass in calm determination.
Heavy, heavy today, baby.
Pulling hair back, jeans, boots, blue shirt, sweater, Chanel.
A confused reflection staring back through the mirror.
She’s been buckling under,
maybe from trying, from
being Kudra
being Gilda
being...
January 2012
19 posts
2 tags
I am running shaking fingertips over bruised arms and puncture wounds
where the nurses couldn’t find a vein
everything is heavier today
my eyes are focusing again
and I wonder, what if I am?
what if I am sick?
in a real way.
I am shifting in bed trying to hold a pen to paper,
looking forward to dinner and a movie with Sam,
looking forward to being touched without a stethoscope.
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I’ve been fighting this fever for twelve hours and losing,
spent a week dreaming tidal waves,
losing grasp of hands drowning in the undertow,
ending perfect Caribbean blue,
dreaming children and cross-country road trips,
standing outside the mind’s projection room,
watching each moment fragment
a kaleidoscopic vision of poisoned hopes.
and I’m hesitant to name an...
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I am pulling back fabric from the needles watching helpless as a few slipped stitches scatter down unraveling the tapestry that has been our lives together for almost twelve years.
Realizing for the first time: I cannot fix this.
And I crawl beneath blankets holding the warmth of the dog close as if my life depended on it, but cotton and batting isn’t strong enough to keep our world from...
It’s late now and I’m in bed
smoking, sipping on some Southern Comfort you left on the bookshelf
before you took that last flight out.
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you are solid standing across from me
watching the blue tides of your eyes ebb and flow
swallowing my impatience
because I want to step closer,
but I know you’re sorry you have to work
and I wonder on the sweetness of you
under fluorescent skies
after you walk me in brushing snow from my hair
and I think how I just want to fall into bed with you
smiling bewildered while you talk...
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january.
Autumn temperatures and sunshine are a contradiction to the date so I took you out to the countryside and we walked the Bluegrass hills my family owns to drink and make our own fun.
We ran out of bullets before beer, but you taught me how to shoot your gun and I showed you how to make a fire.
Transition.
Wish you would ever let me pay for something, but it doesn’t seem to be your nature....
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Tell me, what would I say?
Don’t go.
Something else?
As if there exists words would weave some magic into the world and stop you from leaving with your orders and your pride.
As if either of us have ever said it out loud.
I would rather say nothing as we always do, nothing except
I’ll see you later, okay?
or
Miss you now and then.
or, more simply,
Goodnight.
Those words...
Yesterday, after he and Kaylah emerged from the guest room a little worse for wear and lacking in champagne, Johnny said I was a tornado. I guess that’s about right.
tor·na·do
Noun:
A mobile, destructive vortex of violently rotating winds having the appearance of a funnel-shaped cloud and advancing beneath a large…
A person or thing characterized by violent or devastating action...
savageleewriting replied to your post: resolutions.
Nothing gets written if you don’t write, is something I notice all the time…
No truer words!
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resolutions.
I am not going to bother making any broad sweeping New Years resolutions as that will only ensure that I don’t accomplish them. I have had a cold, hard, sobering sort of year and I have allowed myself to wallow in the mourning of it for too many months now.
Instead, for every thing I have lost or that feels lost to me, I will write down one new thing each day that I have gained until I have...
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Thrown Away Wordings
A wonderful writer with delightfully change-y color hair.
savageleewriting:
Throwing away words.
I’m throwing away my words on you.
You never notice anything I say, anything I am. And I have to say so much just to get you to look this way.
You raise your head, you act like maybe you see me, when you’re really just looking past me. You’ve got a life, you’ve got places to be, things to do,...
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In a few days you will be gone again for another year. I don’t really know what this is except that we don’t ask questions and you kissed me at midnight on a new year for the first time in twenty. I am only hoping that it brings you luck across the ocean. Something of me sitting here, walking, driving, working, living on the streets where we grew from children to this to take with...
December 2011
69 posts
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I can’t bring back what used to be between us, but come tomorrow night I will put on my chiffon dress, pearls, and patent stilettos.
I will ride up the elevator to a party that crosses three apartments and an entire floor holding almost everyone I have ever known in liquored strobe light rapture above a closed dental practice.
I will press the number 3 and hold my breath that when the car...
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For six hours I have been trying
willing myself to remember the last time I was happy.
been forcing this handful of farces
on a morning when only the coffee girl can coax a smile
I am driven to distraction
noticing autumn leaves still on their branches and that I,
I have stopped trembling.
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Some years you lose too much,
or maybe every loss piles on collective
causing a break of delicate balance.
and you do what you must
in order to survive
to pierce through a veil
to get back into light again
even if it means raging
even if you have to succumb to the madness
walk blind in its blizzard, stumbling.
you do what must be done
and you count scars later.
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another.
And it’s another one of those sober nights when I can’t sleep, but I can hear the cold rain falling outside through open window next to my pillows. I have been reading again. Three books in ten hours and I forget how the act of complete immersion can at once both depress and elate me even as I know it’s just another trilogy of fluff and fantasy and endings that never satisfy a...
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translation
Last night you drank your vodka with a side of vodka while I was matching shots of whiskey and stealing olives from your glass. Instead of walking in the front door of the bar when I said “Hey!” from the patio you jumped a five foot fence and skipped that shit. Instead of parking you drove your truck up to the bedroom window.
This morning you stood outside in late December smoking a...
3 tags
WatchThis is how Kentucky girls get shit done.