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dooger7
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Name: audra
Birthday: 7/7/1984
Gender: Female
Interests: slaughtering the muffalos.
Expertise: AIM: XapokatastasisX, dooger7 (i tend to use this one more)
My black coffee fantasy never seems to bother me.
In my mind I'm hoping I'll betray the sinners dance and fade away.
Occupation: Research and development
Industry: Nonprofit
Message: message me
AIM:  dooger7
AIM:  a new somniloquy
Member Since:
11/24/2002
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| i like to sit in public places with my eyes closed and take in the world through different senses.
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| scott is going to bury my photograph in the iraq sand
and all the while i'll be weeping
for our children of the future
with their literary names
still unknown and brewing
in the time prison
that ultimately makes things possible or impossible.
don't want caskets draped in flags
that resemble baby blankets for young men
terrified and barely born
eyes open to sand storms
there's my photograph
i hope some little kid finds it
and we can share a gaze
i'm sure i'd feel it so hard it would wake me up from nightmares
i hope she puts it in her pocket and hopes with all her wishes
maybe then this would all have meaning-
i want to grow wings
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the last night of february feels like the last night of youth-
spun in akward musings time tripping outward through windowpanes into the night
scattering on pavement and rolling down into the next town seperated by an overpass or an underpass or a homeless guy rubbing his mitts together wishing.
wishes account for most of life if they are your only window into your only soul
you know nothing if you haven't dreamed it
shivering in the darkness clutching your own kneecaps
hoping that someone comes to save you.
i plan on seeing dawn this day- a new awakening
winter light splattered in gold hues and undertones of short bodied saturdays
finding shapes inside tree branches
contemplating breakfast
and praying for snowdays-
some wishes aren't for keeps.
i have often wondered if i already know my soulmate-
and soulmating is in perpetual happening with battleflags that resemble lips
(how do souls mate?) i think like tumbleweeds and windy summer storms.
i know darkness and devouring death
heart attacks, asphyxiation, lime disease, matricide, animal f(at)lesh,
diamond paper cuts.
and to be satisfied is to stop trying
and to ache is poetry limitless and tragic
like some euripidean character finding out the cosmos
is counterclockwise and stinging wounds with wine red and sour like the blood of
butchered children as she
leaves town.
but time's still told in backhands and violence
tears and gratitude
servitude sexuality and glamour
insideout wombs and tombs and bombs
and lucid dreams
and demeter's contract signed in a soiled
heart beneath the ground french kissing some smelly dead dude.
waiting is another word for beginning
and it's all beginning now.
february's out the door
white rabbit white rabbit
march early morning too awake
with goosepimples
and intellect
typing fragments of the life that i see
before i lay myself in a dark concoction of mixed senses
warm and wet
lifting the corners of my mouth
like the driver of a bus making a turn too narrow
with passengers toppling to one side
like a stack of papers blowing off a picnic table into the wind
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| last night's slumber bestowed upon me yet another apocalyptic dream. two parallel eiffel towers- each falling seperately, sending tidal waves in two directions. gusty tidal winds making people's bodies into bouncy balls, splattering them on the cement into shattered bones and spilled insides. i ran to the tallest building- somehow escaping, trying desperately to call my loved ones. a grim scene to wake to, i tried to pry my mind away, forcing my eyes to open and take in the winter light reflecting on my walls- only to fall asleep again to a continuation.
thoughtful showers of darkness.
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