http://continuation.blogdrive.com/ Crimson Memories Sat, 24 Jun 2006 20:55:01 PDT http://www.blogdrive.com Copyright 2006. http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/120.html Sun, 25 Jun 2006 02:51:26 GMT It's been almost two years. Let's dance. http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=120 http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/119.html Sun, 10 Oct 2004 18:47:16 GMT We stand on the edge of life, yearning for the courage to jump carefree into the pool of floating possibility below; our minds race from action to reaction, where the I Want This meets Insecurity meets Fear meets I Don't Know. And we wait, for a sudden gush of wind to unsteady our balance, send us tumbling below unaware - so that decision has no time to weigh down opposition and we appear, soaking wet, swimming in tomorrow. The constant tug of war within, the rollercoaster that sends us up the mountain and back down, spiraling around 'what if' like a top spinning out of control - we want... (more) http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=119 http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/118.html Tue, 05 Oct 2004 21:29:24 GMT whisper: "hush" ...and speak sideways, dance around a truth - hide behind a phrase (where meaning is hollow and hollow has meaning). restless: "now" ...to break the silence and beg for its return; once more - lie (somewhere in between) impulse to thought then action. look: "up" ...scanning skies for a sign to spark this moment to life, frantic to feed floating dreams; when desire lies underfoot (and has, all along). We file backwards along the maze of life. Running our hands across the walls to find a simple groove. Desperate when .. our last match is used and... (more) http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=118 http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/117.html Thu, 30 Sep 2004 15:28:14 GMT ::caught fingers crawl to flick ‘on’ fade black into blue, into me, into … a slow blink to fast and then; steady with no light, no map – melted an inward spiral; shining palette of color see it (speak backwards) all .damn. crinkled sky and mumble; maybe stumble “how” – enter not touching ground a free-form-float-quiet-endless-now we are (acutely unaware) I am caught:: [not even sure where this goes] {who cares?} (again) I’m inside out awake and upside down smiling and forward laughing and upward declining and spinning in circles and not... (more) http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=117 http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/116.html Sun, 26 Sep 2004 19:19:04 GMT I part my lips to speak only to be choked by a cartoon question mark as it squeezes through my teeth (with a pop – the comic sound integral to a child’s world) and floats gently in front of my eyes, as if saying I never have the correct punctuation to make sense, not now, maybe not ever. I can live with that. I toyed with the idea of dark stairwells and waiting for life to happen, played with the thought that there’s an end to begin somewhere between the start and the finish (but definitely not the middle). And there’s always a limit, a number to count to and a wall by a door – I’d... (more) http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=116 http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/115.html Tue, 21 Sep 2004 04:57:04 GMT No more hurricanes, please =/ ::resuming normal mode:: His mind was a chessboard and he, the sound of glass breaking in an empty hall; I was merely his pawn, strewn casually on my side, constantly defeated. We would always play at the break of dawn (he said the morning sun made him feel renewed) and I often found myself to be shapeless before noon. It seemed his fingers would slide their way into my divets, his clammy touch enough to bury shattered phrases in my skin. (It would suffice to say he manipulated my senses in less than ten moves.) (Shit) There's a silhouette... (more) http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=115 http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/114.html Tue, 14 Sep 2004 02:11:57 GMT In the calm before the storm, the sunlight we emit pours from our open eyes and into the hearts of others, filling up rigid cracks with a slightly adhesive bond as we try to provide a barrier from the looming tempest ahead. We watch grey clouds pick up speed, tripping over one another in their race towards our blue skies, never trepid in their advance to transmogrify our mood. And seemingly enough, nature is representative of our disposition, presenting us an option for mea culpa but remaining a stolid judge against our case. Our fingers interlace with the ones we love, sweaty palms... (more) http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=114 http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/113.html Fri, 10 Sep 2004 06:14:45 GMT I’ve thought about asking the questions we keep silent, the ones that provide a wicked sense of life to our overactive minds; the ones that tumble up our spines to send rocketing chills of sensation across warm skin. And that slight sting in my lips, a tingle to throb that gropes the air begs me to twist rib to hip and run my hands up the arch of my back until it forms an awkward angle – the type that yearns to form a knot just to be uncoiled. and for a moment I’m paralyzed between thought and action spinning inside a delicate emotion where sudden gaze meets gaze impacts my... (more) http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=113 http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/112.html Mon, 06 Sep 2004 06:50:18 GMT Tonight it’s a mesmerizing peak atop a cliff that drifts slowly in and out of vision where our downward eyes catch sudden glimpse the expanse of all that lies below and we weave our fingers in and out between the effervescent patterns a dream or something shorter lived that makes life worth living and death worth dying for. I can remember exactly what it was that caused my breath, ragged, to catch as I left your eyes to seek refuge in pieces of furniture that couldn’t see And I remember exactly what was felt when strong arms grasped ribs to hold on like there never... (more) http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=112 http://continuation.blogdrive.com/archive/111.html Wed, 01 Sep 2004 05:48:02 GMT my ears strain to listen for some whispered word of hope that might trail into tomorrow on the form of today and backwards are heavy sentences that reinvent me into self and break life into yesterday on the form of tomorrow bleeding, twisted into a particular shape no distinct size broken into a piece without a puzzle… or something careless like that Today was like looking into my own eyes and not recognizing the color; seeing myself for the first time and being frightened by the person staring back at me. http://continuation.blogdrive.com/comments?id=111