Gettin' jiggy with it...

Twitt-poem

As eyelashes flicker the itch remains, burning up in the smouldering sun, each drop of sweat lingering...
(8 minutes ago from web)

Flexing muscles lure in the unexpected...
(6 minutes ago from web)

Leaving me breathless. Hesitant to enter the darkness.....that follows...
(2 minutes ago from web)

(17-04 2009)

The origin of oceans

Oceans
Were created

Not by rainstorms

Nor
Through
chemical reactions

but

by
Salty
sweat
pouring down
your back

merging

with

mine...

Snippet #3

And anther one...

(Yes, told ya it's a dark shabang! Teh script does have comical notes in there somewhere tho....just a little...hehe)

***

Purple days... 

Purple days rattle in my soul, like karaoke dancing langoustines. 

I see a face in the mirror, but I'm unsure whether it's me. 

Each speck, pore and wrinkle seems to belong to somebody else. 

Somebody I don't know. 
Yet they seem to think it IS me. 
...little do they know... 

How can they? 
They still believe everything's paved in gold. 
They see sculls covered in diamonds and think death is beautiful. 
...well maybe it is... 
...maybe it's me who has lost the plot... 

I'm wearing a clown face, after all... 
Who does that?? 

Shit, I feel like such a fraud!! 

She looks at herself in the mirror. 
A heavily painted face looks back at her. 
Slowly she raises her right hand and streaks her face. 
The immaculately painted make-up gets smeared in one long colourful streak. 
Half her face is immaculate, half is smeared. 

Then the door opens... 

Snippet #2

And so....another snippet of that which I'm writing...(sexier one)

***

-I want to tackle you. Throw you down on a wet mattress and have my way with you. Hard.-

She looks at him defiantly, a smile on her red painted lips.
He looks back confused, trying to find a escape route, but he has to pass her to get away.

-Chaz...I...I...heheh...I didn't mean it like that! I mean...I was just joking!-

-Were you? Well I'm not.-

She approaches him threateningly, slowly unzipping the front of her tight body suit.

-Look. I don't really want to sleep with you, ok? I was just kidding, teasing you a little. Hey, I'm a guy, that's what guys do!-

-Well, what can I say...I liked the proposition. I've wanted this to happen for a long long time now. So get ready to deliver what you promised me....-

-No, listen I...I w...

She moves closer and closer to him, still unzipping slowly.

-Jesus!!!-

He seems really scared now, his body in full escape mode.
She pretends she doesn't see and approaches him until she's standing only a few centimetres from him and looks into his face, close enough so he can feel her breath on him. She lowers the upper part of her body suit until her bare shoulders are visible.
He looks nervous, curious, slightly tempted but at the same time not very happy about the situation.
There's definitely some inner struggle going on in him...he doesn't seem to know whether he should accept or decline the offer.
His hands move towards her bare skin but hesitates.

Suddenly he bolts and runs out the door as soon as he reaches it.
She looks at him calmly, dresses her shoulders again and turns around as she zips her body suit up again.
She smiles and walks over to the mirror.

-No more sexist jokes in front of your friends for you, you fucker.-

She looks at herself in the mirror and sighs.

Snippet #1

Small snippet of the "script" I'm currently writing...

***

She looks at the falling snow.
Feeling strangely melancholy...
How can thoughts and feelings get so intertwined?
She takes a bite out of her tuna sandwich and listens to the muted sounds of the city.
For a moment closing her eyes, while the tuna gets mauled by her molars.
Swallowing.
Feeling the pieces of bread and fish slide down her throat.

Chet Baker blows his tunes softly out of her living room speakers.

Everything seems cushioned by the white flakes falling from the sky.
Even her thoughts are muffled.
She sighs and presses her forehead against the cold pane of glass.
The cold damp window presses against her skin.
A drop flows down over her forehead, cheek and jaw until it falls into the nothingness between her and the window sill. 

"I have to remember to get some milk", she thinks

Nights....

What is it with me and sleep these days...

Nights shorten as days elongate. 

Snoring of neighbors in comfortable beds. 

Sleep calling, yet holding me off.
Until the chirping birds of morning unveil how time has passed. 

And night is no longer night, but day...
What else to do but to read, write and hope for sleep to find me..

How can it be that precisely then when sleep is most needed, it decides to go and find better pastures?

Sleep is not only comforting but sometimes has a torturous soul; like a bad lover, it drives you in, makes you crave it, but then spits you out.

Dont take me wrong: I LOVE sleeping.

But for some strange reason it has decided to play a little game with me, these last few weeks.

It wants me to continue without it, to use every available hour of the day to work and theorize and think.

It wants me to analyze complex structures, to think about philosophical issues and find words to write stories with....

I just want to push all those things aside, grab sleep, hold it tightly to my chest, cradle it, and nestle myself under the duvet with it....

The waiting game has begun...