Tuesday, August 17, 2010

The Blood Red Lie

The best time to reflect is when you like the person looking back.

Monday, August 16, 2010

The 14 Billion Years It Took

Do you remember, at the start, how small everything was? Smaller than a point. Like everything was somewhere between a thought, almost, and a reality, almost. And then I looked at you and thought


And then everything that would ever happen, happened.

Friday, August 13, 2010

The Future Is The Past Waiting To Happen

And though you may not be able to imagine what I was like, I did live. More importantly, I loved.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

The Next Stop

Only because it's still so raw and real. Soon I'll just be a series of images that sometimes flash through your mind, when you least expect it. And after that, only a few will stay. Then, one. A memory of a memory.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

The Midnight That Lasted Forever

I do not have to look at the clock to know that it's midnight. I can feel the day rushing across the world, as fast as time.

But somewhere, there is a beach that time cannot reach. Where everyone and everything has always been and never was. And perhaps, you are there waiting for me.

In that place, time cannot touch.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

The Dwindling Conversation

"You're beautiful."

Replied the fly, to the spider.

Monday, August 9, 2010

The B Train

I'd leave the memory of you at the station, if it didn't already know the way home.

Friday, August 6, 2010

The Bleach

You are your hair and your eyes and your thoughts. You are what you look at and what you feel and what you do about it. The light from the sun is still a part of the sun. My thoughts of you are as real as any part of you.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

The Truth Is Born In Strange Places

Joan of Arc came back as a little girl in Japan, and her father told her to stop listening to her imaginary friends.

Elvis was born again in a small village in Sudan, he died hungry, age 9, never knowing what a guitar was.

Michelangelo was drafted into the military at age 18 in Korea, he painted his face black with shoe polish and learned to kill.

Jackson Pollock got told to stop making a mess, somewhere in Russia.

Hemingway, to this day, writes DVD instruction manuals somewhere in China. He's an old man on a factory line. You wouldn't recognise him.

Gandhi was born to a wealthy stockbroker in New York. He never forgave the world after his father threw himself from his office window, on the 21st floor.

And everyone, somewhere, is someone, if we only give them a chance.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

The Voice In The Machine

Thank you for calling/standing near me/being concerned. But I am not here right now. I am somewhere else. And you cannot reach me. Please leave me at the sound of the beep.

Monday, August 2, 2010

The Stars In The Architecture

But if you turn me and my pillow into a punching bag, we'll never let you sleep again.