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More from ~Jazeki

And indeed there will be timeFailing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

Let us leave then, you and me,
When the sun has stumbled to the sea
Like a drunk and battered lover;
Let us leave, by too-crowded streets,
The stalled retreats
Of listless days in office spaces
And dirty windows reflecting monitor faces:
Streets that drag like forced conversation
Between reluctant coworkers
To pass the hours.
Oh, do not ask, "What time?"
You will know the parting line.

In the room men come and go
Sampling wine and roe.

The grey fog that scrapes its claws upon the window-panes,
The grey smoke
Autumn: A ProfileShe likes to sleep in
on those days that are
as short as her temper.

Hidden beneath layer
upon layer of heavy
flannel, every fiber
of her being curls
inward upon itself
like a frigid leaf
on the sidewalk.

The veins of her soul
are prominent beneath
paper birch skin and her
hair hangs low in her eyes
as the sun on the horizon.

She has no concept of time
because each minute is a cold
snap of memories that are not
golden, but a gritty film of
red, orange, and brown.
The Slow Bleed of RomanceAt that brief second of quiet
when there is barely time enough for a kiss:
the moment of emotional riot
riddled with heartbeat gunfire and insults hurled at the abyss
of gnarled trees
weighed down with all the sticky subtlety and romance of June--
that is where I will be
scrying the runes of yesterday's promises
and peering into the crystal
at a future filled with scars
of us shredding flowers pistil
and stamen. "He loves me." "She loves me not," serenade those guitars.
You'll shut off the lights to brood
and mull me over in a melodic conclusion.

The rest is  incessant silence.
I'm not calling you a ghost, but stop haunting me.As I was halfway through drinking the carton of milk, my sister burst into the kitchen.

"I've got a date tonight," Kat told me, picking up our calico, Cheshire, off of the island counter and giving a little twirl of excitement.

I wiped the milk mustache off with my sleeve and smiled encouragingly. Chesire meowed.

"That's great," I said, stuffing the milk carton back into the refrigerator.

"Isn't it, Lee? I can't wait. I'm gonna go get ready!"

With that, she pushed Cheshire into my arms and disappeared out of the kitchen. I looked down at the cat. He was sniffing at my sleeve.

Hope this ends well.

Two months ago, Kat had spent the major

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February 12, 2010
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:iconjazeki:
Look closely and you can see my happy little face. Painting flora always makes me think of Bob Ross and his happy little trees. Yes, I drew myself as a rose. I'm fun to be around, but people can't get too close to me. Even so, I still brighten people's days.


But, now that I think about it, I'm more of a saguaro cactus. :wtf:
:iconabt-nihil:
*Abt-Nihil Feb 14, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
There should be more people like Bob Ross :)
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:iconabt-nihil:
*Abt-Nihil Feb 15, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
:highfive:
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