Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Laur @ 10:04 AM
listening to chatter in Science Fiction
God, don't let the caffiene wear off,
she thinks (prays, although she is
agnostic);
I have a picnic basket full of business
to attend to
and if one sleepy mosquito bites me
I don't know how
anything
will get done.
Laur @ 10:02 AM
listening to chatter in Science Fiction
Sometimes you drink too much (and sometimes
it's water, sometimes
it's vodka), but
what is constant is the craving
to indulge yourself a little
too much. When she glances
at you (she always does at some point--
it's inevitable),
you lose your thoughts
and proceed to stare. This is not
a problem per se,
but obvious has never been attractive
and once you started to be
infatuated,
your inherent nature tossed you
headfirst
into (what
might be) love.
Laur @ 9:59 AM
listening to chatter in Science Fiction
It's difficult to stay awake as
you make your way from place to place, never quite
sure just where
your destination really is; it's somewhere
down these dull hallways, you know,
and as your journey through
a haze of coffee and
coffee-related epiphanies, you wonder
about fate and whether or not it
is what brought
you to this empty morning (identical to
the rest of them)...
time passes slowly; you eat a poptart
and count the seconds
until you feel alive again--
cherry is the flavor.
Laur @ 9:57 AM
listening to chatter in Science Fiction
Her poetry revolves around love
and sometimes rain,
but you never were a fan of words in
the first place. What captured
your attention in the beginning
was the utter
artistry
of the glances she
threw in your direction;
you caught them with eager blue eyes
that she would later call glacial
as your passion faded.
Hers never wavered, and
that
was the problem; you never understood
how anyone could ever feel
so damn
alive.
Laur @ 9:54 AM
listening to chatter in Science Fiction
Lightly the poet sips her coffee,
glancing out the window. She
is in search of two things-- a rainstorm
and her lover--
that disappeared in July.
When she burns her tongue
she looks away
because the unpleasant sensation
is too much when coupled
with her unpleasant thoughts; she wonders
when
did I become so wistful?
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