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ghosts at the door
took my white dress
buried it in the ground
where ghosts lie think
pressing around
weeping trees
misty white hands
draggin’ me down
takin’ the livin’
right outta my chest
his last name
all that’s left
a jaw clenching sound
evidence of a naïve don’t-give-a-damn attitude
work yourself up
sharpen your wings
your rhymes have the smack of money
today resembles life
drunk with energy
streams of curses
bleeding and burning with thirst
but blood is strength
that little truth
we practice as innocents
makes us beautiful
ends mourning
sends hell’s eyes into heaven
gilded with bodies of archangels
tuning in
if everyone had a TV
right there in the middle of their chest
where you could see
what they were thinking
in Technicolor
i’d stand all day
watching yours
a window into your soul
the red room
soft like velvet
mean as hot coals
full of whispers
that know your soul
and pierce the ankles
of the gods
no windows, doors
the walls speak in tongues
the floors know your name
hell has no flame
in our own backyard
a series of bloomings
a series of shootings
the Watering Can Man
the Prime Minister of the picket fence
quells a lawn protest
met with brute force
and Round-up
the last insurgents
torturously uprooted
200,000 more are ready to stand
the President
of the plastic flamingos
turns to
enriched uranium
gun battles between hose
and dandilion
3,000 troops are ready to retaliate
with a naval excercise
in the fountain
the creepers
bullthistle
yellow foxtail
and wooly cupgrass
bleed white
admitting defeat
and the birds rejoice
picking at the seeds
carnage strewn into
a compost of courage
they take to the air
and only the last tufts of dandilion can be seen
drifting through the air like smoke
give me a million sundays
take me for a sunday drive
through golden sunlight alive, unfurled
as it peeps through the valleys
of the ever approaching dusk
ride through the night
where all we see is the light
flying out the window bright as shooting stars
there's you and me and the back seat
the heat of the day fades
and with it, the weight of the wild life
left behind in clouds of dust
the lusts of this world, the lies, the sadness
are nowhere to be seen
as long as it's just us
on a sunday drive.
Regrets to inform you of
The small stone tablet
Was written with God's very own finger.
Falling around it are the leaves,
The green of the soft earth,
The last rays of a dying day.
Then the hills alight, on fire.
They are sprinkled with holy tears
In the last of the light.
Cry for the loved
Cry for the unnamed
Cry for the the unknown.
I see the faces of my own
The cost of sleeping and waking up
Hidden in the rows and rows -
Where a century's worth of mistakes
Are found and lost.
Here lies the quintessence of man.
spell check love song
oh…my love for you
is not a qwerty
but a lyustag;8&!!1
unexpectocated
and irriversandescent -
it fills me with the beating
heartynesscopation
and the togetheresque
song of our souls.
Song of the Day: Fleet Foxes!! White Winter Hymnal is fantastic. Also, the pandora station is PERFECT studying-for-midterms music. Plus, they're from Seattle. Basically ups their coolness factor BIG TIME. Also, I'm recently obsessed with this website: http://www.blogotheque.net/Fleet-Foxes,4532. Check out their take away shows!!
Weekend Plans: Disneylanding! And going to Reality LA. Pretty rad church - you should check it out. http://www.realityla.com/
I go to Reality Stockton. I've only been going for a little bit, but totally love it already. Who's excited for spring break? ME.
Lots of Love and Internal Rhyme!
Caitlin
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