Moebius: works in progress

one_moon_cat @ 2008-08-25T11:44:00

2008-08-25T16:49:47Z

this is the continuing story, for aren't all the stories continuing? only stop, as we see it, once upon a transition: death, birth. renew, comatose, reflect, weigh out the balances

summer waning; she watches
watches limited by sight as always ah this world so blind
what story do you want left for you, strange small being? eyes of light and yet light a photo shop bag of tricks, some places

brown gold light slanted iron sky flash
tomorrow waken anew to the same plans
same dance
new day
dreams; move freely. trapped in an end less mobius loop now
state of fever
grace be holden
where is this - no directed thought, not now. dreams become a trapped waste land.

mountains, so many mountains. utah. lightning ozone smell, always the sense of after math fall down go boom looking round

here now what where lost? no not lost
bullheaded through lost to want this state
but do you

winter's scent coming close. 830 dark already nipping at the heels
of the winter born
autumn bred; mages
/?/

still scared to join hands and simply let go

one_moon_cat @ 2008-07-25T12:43:00

2008-07-25T17:50:05Z

Just your left hand this time. I'm feeling nice today.

/No, no./ she said, trembling, eyes rabbit caught unawares, red and white around the edges of her pupils, pupils swallowing any predetermined color. So beautiful, so scared, rank bitter sweat, underneath it softness, hardness, knowledge; musk. You thought you came here for somewhat else...I know, sweetheart, I know how unhappy you must be. So I will be kind, and only keep your left hand. This time.

/No, no! Please. Don't. Anything./
Ah, you'd rather lose the right one, then? Still be able to give that boyfriend of yours a handjob in the car. More sympathy from other people, harder to return to your life.
/I--/
I think not. I think, this time, the left. Or maybe... maybe, ah, such slender fingers, sweetheart. Maybe just all four, and let you keep that stodgy little thumb... That boyfriend of yours might like that, wouldn't he now?

Still trembling but the acid takes effect this has become a bad dream never use ketamine no they fall asleep for the good parts, soon, this will shift, soon, pretty colors, offset this grand guignol...Not til the shifting starts, will the blades come out, no, ah, the blood so pretty when seen through time...

Yes... four fingers... yes... Tastier that way, mi'darling...

Something that wants to be in progress and is not connecting to itself, even yet. I've no idea...

2008-05-06T18:13:06Z

Rough from the road, walking in as if you own the place, maybe you do, maybe you're persona non grata now but you owned, in one figure of speech or another, this place in some not-so-distant past...

Maybe, maybe. Memories and questions aren't for this hand. Hence long back dirt roads, the spines of range and treeline rising in the distance. Miles from anywhere the venom might concentrate, and yet, you feel it, distant under-currents thrumming.

Damn it to hell. Kicking gravel with one well-worn toe, you reflect on this place, scummy little bar really in the middle of nowhere, but not so much, the edges of another city reach out, they always do, always encroaching, greedy, hungry, nasty fucking tendrils. Sure an' life breeds spread, but this? This, this shit's like some crackho well past her prime legs spread in the doorway of the worst roach motel plus some you ever fuckin' saw and this shit's, this shit's...Nasty. You'd touch her first, you'd touch her with open wounds on y' and no cover whatsoever before you'd willingly take on the backwaters, the boardrooms, toxic breath and waste and sprawl, this encroaching minutiae of the humanity that so misrepresents everything around you, about y'.

Right, fuckit. Enough goddamn thought, just like them, always, can't escape the rat hole, let's have a drink.

one_moon_cat @ 2008-04-24T12:54:00

2008-04-24T17:55:35Z

Triple sour joke & irony.

Gin threaded across paths now bombed; shards

salt, tears, blood, torn are foundations, torn out the poison

finally
&

also

one_moon_cat @ 2008-03-21T15:13:00

2008-03-21T20:18:55Z

so i bred the unforgiven
Ah, culmination. Comprehension. Great & terrible a
conclusion

Black; bare
Irony; hysterical. Truth at last... but in what forms,
how much, how fast
What will be lost? Doors unlooked for...
Commanded; you will see. You have seen. All that
you know; you are now
Told

Full moon; vernal equinox

To be told
True warp of a plane; mindfuck. Uncertain. hey
you're a crazy bitch

Uncertain. Hope this will not become
what it could --- A desperate, rain-salted
Thirst. Unslaked. Sure, & she's
Tasted these wells

No footprints walking away from these sands;
this mirage done dried eons ago,
as was her innocence,
each & every shopworn reply,
each & every thought -Afoot. Oh, this, this -
Art
bane
Eve's skills, inherent, long practiced.

Not this game.
She never, never held so much
as a chunk of fruit,
not her,
a quick slap in the dark,
faceless & to feed - An emptiness? An emotion? A fetish?

So why then, this. Perceived
Thorough
paradigm shift?

one_moon_cat @ 2008-03-12T10:05:00

2008-03-12T15:09:21Z

breathe
& recalibrate: With luck,
with time
(luck? Kid, you threw
THAT dart
a long time past
into regions better never seen)
...fantasies
diminish
(you want that
you know you should)
return to that land;
land of the honest,
land of the waking

Hungry. Ever unsatisfied
Ah,
but worth it
in this currency of shadows?
Guilt and blood lust war.

Too far gone.
Beyond,
a place
she swore she'd never revisit
even as her lips
tasted sure valleys, fallow plain
ridges in moonlight
stretching wideways across a heart

So many times now,
these paths been trod
One can see them
in the dark
silver wheat tread to follow,
come here,
rejoin the damned.

one_moon_cat @ 2008-01-09T09:33:00

2008-01-09T15:42:43Z

we join the dancer now,
back stage.

tired and aching from emotional surf waves
turned time after into
translation: physical exhaustion; beat down; germs slip in

grey matter on the rocks: slow & cold
twisted theory
Time to shelve the books again. Titles never opened, just
Seized, in a flurry of excited
Hope that this time there might be a this time to see clear

Not that anything in particular has gone wrong,
gone different even,
perhaps we see more in stark relief. The lines & parables
//situational existence\\ are blacker;
more ink drawn down the sky.

Funny ironic. Sex becomes leaving; staying; going; taking; pure
physical and letting go
weight; sharp bright sky! intended pain
as if to rend the stars apart, as if...
As if to find by wrecking
a veil that never is to be. No subtle meanings, this
bar room dance floor,
covered in glass & whiskey,
Balm and fodder for her soul
for her cunt
De-activate the brain
hold on to him so tightly

Events pass in shadowbox
wondering at meaning is not allowed in here,
there is none, and was none,
but that the circle came closed,
and you'd do it again,
again,
again,
but for time, and other small problems. And would you,
wolf girl, be
Happy with that?
quite possibly?
Maybe?

Such things are not ours to know; the wheel does not spin out of focus
[Focus]
so far; not now

she sits confused
a'baffled
knowing only there are holes

one_moon_cat @ 2008-01-07T16:53:00

2008-01-07T22:55:34Z

and on
and on
and on

some days puddles; contemplating
floating in dementia
but that's too easy,
& not very constructive

some days feathers; fingers on skin
both hands cinched in her hair; rudder steer a brief
supernovae orgasm to dimn potential grey silk

poignant; loves & journies
footprints straggling across a darklit sky

one_moon_cat @ 2008-01-04T16:16:00

2008-01-04T22:20:42Z

cities rise before me then behind me fall again
Even numbers, skies round. Rough edges her glamours,
leaving red raised welts on untanned places.

Charcoal ; stoned deities. Absence of clothing & rumbled English.

She tries not to let on what she wants, not to the extent she
Might
because after all what is nature? If all were to hold you close,
that'd be enough,
Is it enough to transcend miles? Not without substantiation. This is not some
fluff-brained fancy; she knows all too well the reality

Things do not change. Keep pedaling. Go through
the motions. Date. Laugh. Cry.

Forget nothing, and love as hard as you can

one_moon_cat @ 2008-01-03T15:04:00

2008-01-03T21:10:04Z

you were
Forbidden, years ago. Through circumstance & sense,

(only warm rain, but oh, what warm ...rain?)

so much more of a story to tell that way!

Remembered: breakwaters,
introduction to a Capricorn girl
(with whom in the orchard i spoke of time spherical and other certain things)
Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter.
rain! cold! swimming in jeans velvet dress tank "ari, that's gone transparent"
whipsnap fast red metal truckstops coffee
coffee
coffee
(rum?)

But we don't dwell in memories, Children. They merely make us
What we are

And fear obliterates her yen to see; could anything ever happen?

Time has a funny way of saying yes...
ground base home center

truth friend
truth child
truth skins warm and holding hips in the evening

Does she even need watch her feet,
to know this dance?

one_moon_cat @ 2007-12-21T15:35:00

2007-12-21T21:37:43Z

shades of May slip through the corners,
tainted by memory of winter not so warm
Old blood,
new tastes
Spit sign appears across the road,
where ravens sometimes perch

This ground
unsettled & in nature poisonous, no matter
how many years she has
how many souls it detains, drinking slowly
for all the time in the world lies here
And stagnant

Dallas does not welcome change. These currents slow but pulling,
water fire girl smiles
Occasionally, someone
walks across her path

one_moon_cat @ 2007-11-30T08:05:00

2007-11-30T14:09:57Z

she tells the hours
not so, some times

heart beats could be slower taking time from breath
from thought?
every quiet second
other than the next
thoughts; coming sans reason now... how much milk
from a dry cow
how much milk
can come, this desert
of now almost a fortnight passed?

imagination? gut says no.

/patience a refrain needed
\so hard, ~~too~~ to find
cat here waits
productive; quiet in the shadows

will any come to meet her? promises no malice

sat/tel\lite

2007-11-27T14:24:59Z

it is generally not a good idea
to bleed all over the floor.

men tal
dis sim mill ation
regroup
there is no regrouping
A sane man might say
there is nothing to regroup from
no? but twisted wits; reality for a wee minute
evening
miniscule; poignant: squared sliced passed time

No,
there is nothing to ...regroup from
instinct wit speaks differently. stop behaving as if your brain went
out the window?

don't need to know one sure ground

but

again, we return to blood on the floor (dye)
to ratio nale
shopping malls in december
& maybe, just maybe,
reason desire
to be told stories yet?

one_moon_cat @ 2007-11-26T14:49:00

2007-11-26T20:48:56Z

heart racing; breath painful
no more buttered raisins
sky closes in: can you run?

exes and oh's
don't let this be the first time: don't let this be the last
do i know you from before? will i see you again? and when?
i'd like to...

just ments in arrears
some cog's skewed; waiting
impatiently : out of order?

one_moon_cat @ 2007-11-23T09:31:00

2007-11-23T15:29:22Z

and as if shaking off cob web spans & ennui-sleep,

words emerge. blissful in their long lost death,
Death blinks as the dust sloughs off

these talents and eyes may yet see time

bee: bonnet

2007-11-23T14:58:11Z

the story weaves on

how certain are you that you want this
how certain sure can she be?

new! and completely irrational
unadmitted
sortakinda
maybe
well, not to one girl, who knows her better than the rest
(speaking of that one girl, it might even entirely be her fault)
oh, well...

what is patience? a blue leather mist
softly, sticking
rubber, color, grey & black & red & life...
as she bleeds the voices clearer come,
that is not supposed to be how seeing is

damiana, mandrake, blessed thistle, angelica, kava, mugwort
a blend to calm the waves
see the dreams
maybe even ask a question,
but in tandem with looking
outward, before, inside
'r
drives never lie quiet & sleep comes hard
unconscious ocean salt warm; girl
no

click, man, no fathom, how to explain she
thinks
sees
wisdom, time
laughter? in group so do we mingle
that does not calm the demons when you sleep alone

>>>scorpio girl<<<
always cursed; blessing
to detach from sexual nature? is that possible

black velvet kahlua wondering

>>inside your hands<<

2007-09-29T02:41:37Z

time it feels forever
but forever is a not

Of plum wine
lips long gone. On your face, I see minutiae
overwhelming this clarity.

Time ago,
though ever else balance upset
I was
the focus. The Focus?
Ah! Funny! Hedgehog girl made a funny!
(inside her mind)

Fall again whispering in. Long salt roads
old blank days
twilight, met with jasper
You forget how the silver
long not worn
heightens awareness. Oh, to- These charms all wrong, she no good at
admitting
even to self, inside & under
down
(fleur de lis)
warm?
That, so old a desire
older a dream
Rejected from childhood. That will not be something ever I want.

Over a year on one hand
under a bridge a't'other... Last October she went home
& found some thing
she did never want to return to. Adding scales onto weights
times, plasma, fish, yeast, mushrooms

Blood fire

Earth stubborn

She does not want to grow painful teeth. But

So long this wait, minds spun out, across aegis chasms,
where are you?
Bitter selfish as it sounds
bites
cuts
She thought...
Kilkelly
slipping away; one home; girl; mine
Enough
but in time sense
Wondering. Do you sell yourself too cheap? No one keeps a
battered whore

As much as she might enjoy fleeting ice capacity & magnets

No; this the fall speaking. This the memory guilt grief (and what was taken, admit it though she don't, still hurts). No one
really
Wants to keep a wounded kitten. Cat; grown now, discerning in choice
o'dancing attendants(s)

Again so quiet whispered dark nights
I know I can hold
(want to hold)
will she ever be held? Sudden the dark bite; this is madness talking, do
not let it out,
show it,
the world your teeth
your teeth the world. No sense being nice,
no sense hiding wounds,
Easier to...

Easier to ignore,
plaque does build up after awhile
neglect in this sweet guise of
informality

Better yet
deeper quiet
Call it good
maybe,
someday,
she'll be good

Not good enough. This is more than; there is belief and certainty. Though not all dark days so easily explained superficial
Pretend child
no brain
no mind
the blond
Spend nights staring out the window

Knowing you are getting older
and there is no road that will want you

ii

2007-07-13T21:52:44Z

& on
& on
gathering

out& on &
over the hills 2 far away
yes i'll be your
vessel
but i'm not here tomorrow
oh
a ripple. pain, sad
disguised. so fast he knows
her facets

nevermind
that's ok

ozone heavy green grey air
pressure increasing
metal; somewhere far away
lowered
into
earth

the dead now all
square holes en ground

bent double; denial
acceptance
mix; her emotions
not hers
channelling

even these inborn skills are shaky
so focused; a long wire
of souls
frequencies... pure get,
no future
(draw in closer or
keep steady & on)
discernable. The gods, wry to a one,

smile. You know what you got.
No more,
no less: Sight
not prediction
no sure words
& no influence.

But i-
No.

one_moon_cat @ 2007-07-13T16:44:00

2007-07-13T21:48:51Z

only
to
hold

Wait, now, watch, be
there, here, stand by
This a choice. This
asked for never; this all &
only her instinct. Even that uncertain,
for after all,
in his language
I'll be out-of-touch
for a while Might mean never,
Might be a year, but- Some
un certain surety. Perhaps in part latent
mis-placed guilt? Perhaps belief,
Or communication. Funny, were it that. so
Might be a next week
& he'll cry
only
to
hold

Not to her
off the face
of the earth
with no warning

In recompense
She will wait- ha! As if she could
over ride
this vein,
this knowledge sans reason,
basalt deep & solid
jasper lanced through sand.
And, so.
Keep this vigil, if only one
candle
rosary
smudging
circle
reading
prayer a day... She goes
through other motions. Keep
what little you can give,
priestess blood
albeit dilute
Stark bas-relief
stigmata of bones: She loves him
For this, if naught else,
reconciled & prayer
to a man she never knew
but fathered one she does

dated 7/11/7 sometime between 2:40 and 4:04

2007-07-12T20:42:38Z

what do you say when you-

i cannot own this grief
it is not mine

Please
out-logic the empath

i knew
something cold came on the breeze
...but just
not this
& deeper sure; it's not all over
& that
nothing can be done about
premonition
precognition
substantiating, giving birth to
giving breath to
she, holding scythe & sickle moon

Child
i told you you'd not like
this pattern
But insistent a request
for never no blindfold

& now to keep
a vigil
a candle
a fast
of fancy & of trust

They will ask;
what good therein?
NO answer. Save
whispering box hedge
-there are no fall trees now-
No answer; for my
own surety reckoned crazy.

Feed the animals.

Wine, blood, ashes

red lacquer

& but for
pastel dragon ships
(fire marengo)

the seers
can only
must only
Watch this play,
this bitter stage

And little sense? Again
voices will be heard
those around you:
this is not your battle
this is not your grief

Oh, yes
for tis

I go beyond sense
to where knowledge &
ice reconcile

the 3 shrews do not even
blink, to stop their weaving
they know me
as I force my eyes to open
another day soon
another spate of breathing

Only priestess marked
when i proved too strong for death
That is why i overcame
Only this the path
i was given
The gods love bitter
irony.
She can see! And never
to do a thing about it
except offer open arms
every man need someone to return to
seals post oil spill
this ice
hell & heaven

WHAT!! Do you want me
to dampen the dreams? THIS
Only an
--The avenue I could not see

No, she will not
cut her hair & burn it.
that a pretense to share own
In nothing named hers

Red & black comingle
remember; for so long you cried! At
their absence
beneath swirling skies now,
wet salt bloom

one_moon_cat @ 2007-06-23T12:11:00

2007-06-23T17:13:09Z

too early yet

for aftermath, really. As much as one can say,
while not saying,
This is it
you idiot

"there are other people trying to sleep here".
I guess I should laugh.
Me; fool. Ten times more... thinking
if I were replaced,

i'd be notified.

Was
going on a year
nothing's perfect

but that was a really shitty way to tell someone goodbye

one_moon_cat @ 2007-06-15T16:55:00

2007-06-15T21:56:07Z

bittersweet ironic,
of course,

she's no idea how to keep, or perchance even get

what she's let herself to wants

one_moon_cat @ 2007-06-15T16:38:00

2007-06-15T21:43:49Z

hello, june.
tripping bittersweet entry
she leaves the door cracked, as if
as if... not quite to show her face yet

arrived too soon for welcome. still what promise on
lily-white//cocoa-tan shoulders, slim thunderstorm wind&eyes

last year i could find no roses
so i gave you him and open arms

ah, yes
there are no roses to be found today
his arms, if ever open, have closed on her now a fixture, now a basic thought.
less important than chicken,
maybe about as much so as
golden
amber
drops
whiskey; when taken seldom but always with care.

you're all too good at what you do, m'girl

No,
almost bitter chocolate; still sweetness in the laugh
layered
promises, betrayals, gifts forfeits surfeits lacking &
Not to destiny be any man's
whiskey harlot

for none & any sense this makes
june; bringer of half/full/round/pivot
only in the end
one child in twelve

one_moon_cat @ 2007-05-18T12:17:00

2007-05-18T17:19:50Z

two years, she thought
looking round as morning drifted slowly in
peach to blue, grey to slear

and what have i found? no desert,
no open spaces
sky, and much of it. people, many
too many at times
and still walking lonely
nights i hear the dead.

who has embraced her? a multitude,
slim in the margins,
wholly in arms

will she walk further?
no ways to tell
as of now- she knows this
there is always more story

one_moon_cat @ 2007-03-24T11:10:00

2007-03-24T16:26:59Z

Less is more, say the advocates of elegance. In fashion. In perfume. And with that philosophy comes withering; models not grown but stunted on the vine, food in fulsome glory given at once a bad rap and forbidden siren call. If you've ever struggled with the surfaces, if you're one of the women who's felt fine, maybe even happy, in your skin- and then seen a mirror, well. True, it's not only women, but in all we seem more susceptible to this, to this a strange disease.

So a new philosophy. To counter the old; fight does no good in this established arena. But a counter? Weight ever so softly slipping onto the scale, rounding where bones and skin had held their presence? From hard green nubs come firm, dark, pulsing cherries, seed and flesh encapsulated and almost wholly round. So the same, no matter, across the kingdoms, the most desireable is fertile and lush.

More is more, if trained and fulfilled. More becomes sloppy when haphazardly gathered, weight put on in a fortnight, cheap wine drunk when vintage unavailiable, pancake makeup over luminous skin.

It seems, then, that this relationship is of the less-is-more variety. Yet the less there is, the higher intensity packed into a few. Moments, words, sensations flowing overfull now, almost to pretend that you don't have all the time in the world. Trying on clothes in the dressing room; there might not be a line outside, but trial becomes repetitive once you know whether the pants fit, or not. Perhaps if you asked him, he'd mumble something about time, boundaries, cold feet, running scared. Never a word to the fact that he keeps her at a distance and refuses her any reason for why. And her, being female in nature and brooding by heart, learns the words as she might train her muscles. It makes no sense, not really, but he sees her as insensible on the best of days. She wants, needs, even slight reassurance, to know whether they do indeed have a future, whether his early vague statements about taking any girl on some (fucked-up to her, graphically charted sans emotion or circumstance to him) five-year plan actually MEAN anything, to know if she's just... passing time, and to know why he always, invariably, becomes defensive when she tries, compressing words into sounds and maybe getting the glimpse of an answer. But the last time they talked, his only words were that he didn't really know her. Months ago now. And still... the feeling that if she asks, if she even wonders whether there's an indication of lasting, of permanence, or whether he's just keeping her until something better comes along... No way to say this, for his response will be, I don't understand what the problem is. Am I on audition or is this your way of passing by? she wants to scream some days. But forgets to, because too easily, she's happy. Damp the underlying insecurity, after all, who needs to know whether they've leveled, or at any minute might be shoved off the cliff?