non-sensical deliberations
not merely anything of substance or reality
overplaced above the shelf out of reach
little feet can't reach the tippy-toes of defeat
off to sleep in a bucket of old socks 
a smell of dryer sheets and worn cotton 
talking to the toe holes, airy in discomfort
this really is a waste of good thread

gnos a ton
yad yttihs
should have mentioned that one
at least a time or two before
niaga neht
rettam ti dluow
probably not
to want someone so much
ynoga ylno si

overly offset little love affair with the breeze
gibberish is as gibberish means

November 8, 2004 :|: SONGS :|:

to step backwards, to step lightly
into your general direction
i'm a misshapen mistake 
waiting for someone to fall

you're the antithesis of what i need now,
but i'd crawl into your lap just the same
i found the right words for this very once,
and spewed out gibberish when i saw you

sorry, this isn't exactly perfect
sorry, this isn't exactly me

when i find my legs to walk on,
would you mind if i walked over?
i could use the company right now,
and you're a stronger place to stand

sorry, this isn't slightly romantic
sorry, i kept telling you i can't

because,
i will

one long night, spent somewhere in the grass
staring up in stars and Orion reached for his belt
the wind caught the heat and turned to run
at the sight of flying sparks
you'd tell me i was imagining things
and that i need a level head
i can't keep the night out
the dreams i need to breathe
the reason i fall into fantasy
you can't even begin to imagine - that's a problem

another summer's wages, spent far in advance
trying to get away from the city's metal glare
the iron turned red as i pled in self defence
i can't keep up with it anymore
you and your insincerities
keep me always out of reach
i don't want to be like this
an aching, needing, fake
i need to keep my feet suspended
and get you off of my back - you don't understand

always falling face first, and down
not about another one, another love frown
keep the secrets under your dirty bed
i'm not about to let you out of my head
close the curtains, close the doors
we're all about to become whores
i wish i had the grace to say no
but there's something here, i can't let go
simmering and shimmering little lies
i'd find the rip and try to hide
get off, get away, before i break
you always take, and take, and take
i'm giving up the paper's ink
just so that you may watch me sink
over and under and through your skin
i should have never let you begin
here i swim in your shallow lands
bumping on the rocks of your hands
squeezing and pleading and so undone
one more push, out the door girl, run

November 10, 2004 :|: SPASMS :|:

such slippery little words
denying me this right to speak
an avalanche of syllables
a death of sounds
torn in together and out
breathtaking monotony
spare me the stutterings
and all verbal charities
allow just this tongue
to wander on its own

entirely encompassing
a tune without a ring
reminds me of a dirty girl
and carbonated caffeine
twisty metal tying bands
elastic arms and legs
stretched, marked side ways
empty under coffee cups
dregs of utter sanity
swirled with ugly paint chips
coating over dry lips
drink it up, drink it up

you're alone, and i'm alone
death was tied in a sac
a tremble of fleeting thoughts
(this isn't coherent)
obviously oblivious
that's it, go to sleep
mind numbed and don't speak
crawling up the walls
into and out of ears
(something about sounds)
i realize i'm being blatant
could you hand me a match?
i'm gonna burn it down
distraught dilemmas
bookends of the world
tabular and singular
a plural without a word
holding on to split-end dreams
(a plausible overstatement)
catastrophic consistency
you bend into break-worthy
stop making this up

a visceral little world of plasticine deniles
she's a molded over star formation 
searching for a constellation
desperation clings like dust
along the rolling roads of rust
metallic destinies and distilled dreams
washed over archaic bouts of apathy
she's asleep

© Molly Miles