Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in seashelllz's LiveJournal:

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Friday, October 21st, 2011
1:28 pm	all sad dreams come clean in the river, the blind men sigh and the old women shiver, come closer, they say, don't be a sinner. come closer, they say, it's almost winter... (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 12th, 2011
4:33 pm	carpeted creations all this empty adulation has come under fire from the extinguishing mire curtail the villains, contain the desire to venture past the eyelid infamy resurrecting the wettest temperature the skin could ever try to be if this is the wonder where is the wall the undertones underneath the undulating surface of it all calibrate the context into calico kismet a word too absurd for the alphabet to kiss it crumpled and clamped in a mouth revamped a blonder betrayal of the same old canceled stamp believing the grieving currents of measure a wind in a widowed fantasy savior complete with the armor of ancient degrees borne on a rumor of bottle caps and bees the weapon held tight between the teeth a massacred column of a new way to breathe shoehorned between the sounds of plaid palms waving the fronds of our alibis home collapsing these cups into kings cold with cancer dissolving the pills like an unquestioned answer these stairs will defeat the muscles worn bare until not even the seeds remember to stare. (Comment on this)
Friday, September 30th, 2011
4:58 pm	this fashion is becoming unfashionable, these sleeves wrapped too tight quarter step quarterhorses training to hoarseness, a blackened witness to some deeper sickness this warning shot is shooting itself in the foot a factual force to rhyme this murder with the crows that know when the time comes campfire stories that grab your ankles, this decision is becoming unconscionable our lungs less pink our history less visionary our vehicles tired, our feet mismatched this timeline is timeless, this science stolen from temples and between corralled hunters come hunting your palms for danger, your face for anger your dreams for antlers your knees for stings of ancient bumblebees this nakedness is becoming normal, these clothes not fit for emperors, these blindfolds bringing bad news years in the distance, days circled inside squares, the heart's own calendar of forgetting but it made sense to huddle and light our limbs with laughter to rust slowly, crumble like breadcrumbs trailing off in your voice a sentence without penance a watertight rope laid loosely around the neck of the forest painted the colors of earthen wanting this is mourning, birthing bleeding, this is battling, forging a victory from rags and nettles and gravel gowns unfashionably late, we work the bones, no fingers left to point the way home. (Comment on this)
Friday, September 16th, 2011
4:52 pm	We don't ask politely. Air catching fire inside the still spaces of vanishing ribcage heat. Very unseemly, you'd say, if you saw me now. Disheveled, violent, mirrorstruck within the fantasy web of artifice. Arrows straight through my heart. Blackbirds at every window. A mockery of love, slave of slipping down spiral-faced into a time out of time. A world I forced myself to navigate solitarily confined. I still don't ask politely. I still don't sing in stillness. You're still gone. (Comment on this)
Saturday, September 10th, 2011
4:59 pm	hand-lettering aghast agape these words take shape filling falling cracks in mothers' sidewalk backs while the records spin slowly filling in the between spaces caught up in strangers' faces aglow, alight the old wet night comes to remind the heart to fight (Comment on this)
Friday, September 9th, 2011
2:03 am	oh long roads and white cars through tall tree canopies what constitutes these memories? in lost tv shows and temporary dialogue i'm learning new reasons to keep quiet let the slamming screen door speak for me, fill my mouth with salve a pick-up truck song sung like an abandoned anthem for ashes of trees not yet burned, still birchsweet, still shuddering reckless leaves what replaces these memories? desert brides come back to haunt the seas dragging sand and salt between their knees teeth chatter involuntarily crossed fingers become the best bet for letting go these kids harden small hearts against the windchill windmill small legs in untimed tides remember. (Comment on this)
Thursday, September 8th, 2011
3:51 pm	When did the end overtake the beginning? the brass band in my veins is losing the beat and your voice is winning... (Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 30th, 2011
10:42 pm	mars tinged skin sinks in the flint of spark and sin begins to inflict its grin war torn warning the holes still forming quieter than unkept promised rings slipping around calloused morning about a kingdom we dream, spent everything still singing the songs that leave the lungs stinging the smoke of evening weaving our story untrue and uneven spent all leaves like summer's reprieve you didn't give me time or reason to grieve so i stayed in this glass menagerie of make believe a lilac disease rash and unseen under the skin the whispered sheen of blue and green stomping through veins and screaming like steam is it like heaven behind the eyes? is it a trick to sink and rise? are pills and syringes the best disguise? i'm cleaning the windows to see the disappearing skies where a hole in my chest has left me older but no more wise. (Comment on this)
Friday, July 22nd, 2011
12:10 pm	Rebelle Wrapped in gowns of gabardine streams no tongue native to these words claimed like scars in the palm of singing hands walked, talked the dance, a hymn of a trance, wrapped in the rope of a lover’s new dance the rain falls necklaced and night-seeing abalone sorrows becoming a story told to the collarbone the old ways relearned taller than tidal wave, deep as a stone skipped along surface of woven alone new moon shadows wounds unwrapped in desert rooms without walls, a mourning dream without regrets my fingers feel worn some Wednesdays, mouth dry from breathing hard, waiting for new spirits this is the way the heart knows to get what it wants without paying a price it can’t afford. (Comment on this)
Thursday, June 23rd, 2011
11:59 pm	you didn't mean keys to me in your mother boots writing letters on the ground sordid, maybe, the way you played chess or listened too loudly after the last shovel came to rest fake stars came out sparkling like apparitions bleeding inside a sonnet wrapped in stained silk shirts you said you could get clean you didn't answer my morse code missives or reply to my dry eye drum songs, gone before i knew how to find you legs shaking, i waver between the sound of our glasses of water spilling into each other and the chain lock slipping against its captor i ate locks for you spent all day feeding white birds and knitting mittens of mourning ran my lungs ragged reaching for colored clues the atmosphere kept stealing for its own come back and i'll tell you a story of the 6th sense i inherited from your pockets we'll laugh our way through september leave letters on sidewalks to the coming snow (Comment on this)
Tuesday, June 7th, 2011
11:41 pm	i can't pick out the features, the rings of age in a split tree, my mother in old photographs you say cleanliness is next to godliness and i argue that jesus rarely bathed except that time with john the baptist i hobble these days, brought low by my own gravity sold on old television shows and their theme songs the same old growing up, the football team and marching band heard all over town on friday nights you say you want to outlive these years and i just nod knowing that the body has a way of changing a mind it wasn't that long ago we sailed down rivers miles at a time alone and unafraid, even though the water grew steadily colder and the numbness crept in below the bones i remember better than you the texture of stones, the ferns that followed us on the bank the smell of blackberries chasing bears and what time the sun set you laugh the same still, toss your wild hair. how many know that look, i wonder i can't navigate my way back to that old logging road, take good black and white photos, use chopsticks or forgive easily you say i paint on my own silver lining and i sit silently on the other end of the phone, afraid to prove you wrong. (Comment on this)
Friday, May 27th, 2011
12:43 am	in her delicate summer disease, i learned to read about medicine bled out of sympathy put rails on my bed and slept with the light on while the heat grew through the angriest months and moths stopped singing why couldn't words make themselves, i wondered as i turned the music louder would she hear me now through these holes in the ground? the cutting began the bones opened the wires tiptoed in swallowing whole pain and purple flowers eight times a day let's play cards i wanted to say, but dry inside i looked out the window thought of the cactus out back that i got one birthday and watered until it drowned thought of tsunamis and driving to higher ground waking to find you gone (1 Comment |Comment on this)
12:26 am	finale this is where it ended, mile marker 53, the grass grows more green there, the trees arch slender against deep saddening hills. i wrote it as a note first, pressed it into your unshaking hand didn't look you in the eye, i knew you'd want to ask questions. this is how it went a gradual fading like aspirin erasing a headache a car door shut hard, gravel under old tires, spun hard and hitting the metal frame. this is the red door i went home to, didn't lock anymore. this is the song i listened to, the floor i fell to, the silence i succumbed to. this is how it ended, thousands of empty minutes drained from this old clock that slowed losing time until finally one quiet afternoon it stopped. (Comment on this)
Sunday, April 17th, 2011
10:53 pm	NaPoWriMo - April 17th I can make sparks if you need them she says, pink mouth open...smiling beside a burnt typewriter, the black on her hands a dead give-away curtains drained of life, butterflies still on the mantel but not dead i remembered the shirt from a closet we shared and tried to smile back. i didn't need any more sparks, or noise or holes in my pockets but i had long ago given up trying to tell her. so i kept soaking my sleeves in buckets of water and waiting for the smell of singe to work it's way out of my clothes. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, April 14th, 2011
10:33 pm	NaPoWriMo - April 14th You are my favorite street but still I ran fast as I could down past the movie theater, the gas station and through the town's one red light out of breath and one shoe missing, ragged lungs skipping through the silent hours unaware of curfew or February and maybe it took some doing to find a payphone, avoid the cops, sneak through the hedges without making the dogs bark, but it wasn't my first time; I knew all the secret alleys, and my thrilling skin made me brave enough to stick around that tiny terrible town long enough to hear you say so many times who are you? before I hung up and sat alone with my own heart banging louder than the trains that rumbled through the tracks when the trains still ran along main street years ago when we were still small enough to wave to the windows and run along side imagining adventures we'd have some day, a shared season in a solemn city where we careened our unseen smoke rings through atmospheres so foreign, our mouths couldn't make the words to say anything but thank you. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 13th, 2011
10:48 pm	NaPoWriMo - April 13th oh vanishing semblance my mirrors gone black vulgarly mouthed mantras a yin and yang of yelling mortars in a sky gone red and grey all smoke and neon, i'm reminded of havens that smell like radio music warm porches, alabaster veins inked with blue pen marks and sun-specked freckles the way these stories peel the simple arithmetic you used to win, to teach me to breathe deeper than I knew I could, slower so let me make new hands for us, new faces to wear to fancy parties, smelling like old poppies and white oleander, dead end signs migrating to new avenues and whiplash ampersands have become our most famous conversations and pieces of dial tones get stuck in our matching white teeth some cracked albeit inspiring to be closed door, that kind of listening is not something we come to easily, no matter how hard we tried so just watching is the best we offer each other Ah, baroque bellies connect our theories recorded between clamoring bedroom walls, another taste of nowhere behind your stitch-stained knees come sweep these diseases from my pretty verse curses no sailors to teach me the ugliest language, i pretend to eat their awkward eloquence to spit pieces of cannon and oar I knew what we looked like together from memory, could draw it in charcoal or chisel it out of a cave's inside, my own ancient mural of sisterhood flanked by the planks we bounced our new heels against splintering excuses at sword- point, backed against air a dare that defied our wickedest eyes and a countdown to the echo of water suddenly displaced. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, April 12th, 2011
11:36 pm	NaPoWriMo - April 12th i'm not tired i tell myself, unbelieving wide eyes bereft of claiming innocence, mistletoe warnings lasting until spring, until the scent of frozen ground gives way to the greener grass of slaughter still shoveling the smoke from the stairways, i'm not alone, i tell myself blinking the reasons and old bell chimes from the corners of someone else's rooms camouflaged like a courtroom in the wet part of a night, all ghouls dreamt away into ether new slang adopted for martyred tongues, the trees that watch and waste their time waiting for these ones to wake. for these ones to remember what they prayed for. for anyone to come back to see the place it was laid to rest. selfishly salvaging my etched anger, i'm not dying for a long time yet, i tell myself. shovel broken, heart still as a shell. (Comment on this)
Thursday, April 7th, 2011
10:28 pm	NaPoWriMo - April 7th a wicked blossoming from the blood orange starts the deluge of yesterdays war comes to the young bear before the mother feels the bullet all you villagers wrote down our august insecurities and sang a history we lost, reminders blood orange war bleeds constellating mothers lean against an illusion of a bear claw in an ink sky written on empty bark, trees older than the land they grow from, identities hidden for their own protection teeth cutting through gums, lips drunk on a deluge of yesterdays and blossoms tired of asking, “Now?” angry songs of a pocketed pretense a pistolet war our mothers made us fight summer crimes in winter clothes we’ll make new constellations as wicked as dead bullets, a game more lonely than Russian roulette (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 6th, 2011
10:38 pm	NaPoWriMo - April 6th i had the gut feeling i wouldn't be ready to head home but your trees stopped stooping to touch me the old spare bed lay empty in june tea cups empty on a dirty table my elbows hurt like broken feathers i never had the kind of bones that showed bright white on xrays so we took a long time to say goodbye, blew kisses through open doorways now i sit chanting slightly crazed by moonlight in another northern town my mouth moves like it's trying to make notes, sing some messy blues and i march in place on old floorboards, remember the dreams full of hanging moss raised spirits, cracked concrete voodoo mornings face down in a humid hangover from a night of wild poems we never asked what comes next or how much it would cost the fires made themselves, put themselves out i had the premonition that the wind on the levee would do more than cancel our afternoon plans tear down the pecan trees and leave us bored in your grandparents' house when they fled for higher ground. your bartending friends forgot to send you home at night the sirens grew loud, bright at night, growling animals stalked the fence posts knowing i was foreign no matter how much i wanted to belong to a city full of poison my body loved to drink (Comment on this)
Tuesday, April 5th, 2011
9:54 pm	NaPoWriMo - April 5th festive devastation renditions of the wounded healers heading out to regale the wind with totems and feathers, sunbeam-stricken strummed. the numb, new days named for imagined features uncreated resurrected a tremor rising, earthquake drowned scream wobbling in tremulous temptations. you knew the shamans, the wicked, the holy by the way their palms curled and the hair brushing against shining shoulders limping these streetlight stamped scavenger hunted choruses, made for wider throats, emptier hearts. it didn't need a name a hiding place. a tattoo, dedication, ceremony. a funeral. eulogy. a day like this, trees done bowing lake shaking whiter than ghosts. (Comment on this)