The Words Between Your Limbs

The vocalic repetition of ‘play with me, play with me’ vibrating with the shivers of skin spent in the sun & now rising to the occasion of air conditioning. I have been conditioned by the vibrant interaction with the unique & intentional, yet spontaneous people of this realm, and I now demand more of this daily experience. It is an occupation, this madness… & the coffee shops, the bars, they are the set for the introverted drama that, we hope, some day some one will care about…or in the least, learn something from.

4 days ago | Permalink

TheRoleoftheSeed

I bite in to an orange.

It cums on my ankle.

The sticky sure to attract the accumulated dirt in my bed later —

Dirt of those bad dreams,

falling downhill & driving upside-down.

The dirt the cat dragged in.

I really do have a cat.

You don’t believe me?

Come see.

________________________________________

I’m here with you now, but in a few hours I will inevitably ask you to leave.

I can spend a night with you but I am forbidden to say I spent the night with you.

Do you know what this means?

These sheets hold unspoken anxiety —

except for the morning it was spoken very loud.

The look on his face,

I still can’t swallow right.

Swallow it right.

4 days ago | 1 note | Permalink

on a sunday afternoon before work in the dining room: drawing elbow creases, between thighs, knee caps, & bon iver swirling around the hot air, post bike ride sweat stuck underneath the ink and the pastels.

6 days ago | 3 notes | Permalink

“No longer a backdrop, it is now the adventure itself, an adventure enacted before the backdrop of the commonly accepted banality of private life” - Milan Kundera [something resonating with current thought & the photograph(s) I made last night]

2 weeks ago | 2 notes | Permalink

Another sleepless capture, the strain of desiring closed eyes, a release from conscious thought.

2 weeks ago | 2 notes | Permalink

TAGS . eileenraephotography .

Sleepless at 4:17 AM: To accept the monotony that is the piss pushing against bladder — not the inner chambers echoing your name — that wakes us, is to lose a small piece of the miniature scenarios we hold on to, the precious things we keep company with - that we would hope keep us up at night. The comfort in the haunting nature that seizes you as the reason, and is shattered within four echoing walls of sleepless with out reason, and gives us a stark awareness, a new sense of truth, an ugly truth, perhaps…that we are very, habitually, human.

2 weeks ago | 2 notes | Permalink

TAGS . eileenraephotography . sleeplessthoughts .

our eyes hung low with the soggy drone of an evening soaked in red

2 weeks ago | 1 note | Permalink