we came out together in puffs and darkness and hips.
good intentions rang true 'fore the morning was over and amidst roll-overs and walnuts
i decided
maybe it was a good thing that could bind-- hold us to when shoulder blade would inevitably meet shoulder blade on the A.M. kitchen tiles, and the sun came up from in between teeth in winning smiles.

because i'm slightly sixteen and very much a girl and these points- they must be accounted for.
the trial will go on
through the present and the following days in lieu of scary testimonies and pointed-finger yelps of
'the windows were fogged!'

i'll sit in a pew somewhere this afternoon, feeling sick to my stomach, reconstructing yr profile when
i let you steer
and conjuring up the taste of
content in the back of
my throat, penning odes to the beats that refused to
stay the nite. a silent
speakeasy and
facial piece of negligee- oh how veiled by quaking blankets we all are! how much i'd like to rip them off and stand outside where the cold will sober us and match hand with heartbeat and lips with neck,
sing out of this hermetical want for
you to even try to let the covert eventide seep into our days.
because they can't know
what tongues can convey when the windows are fogged.

Ooohhh! But first I reallyreally feel the need to express my undying love for Conan- the funniest man ever.

Right. So. Have no idea as to whether or not I'm doing this correctly. Alas, Diaryland is dead and Livejournal over-stimulates my upchuck reflex with it's over abundance of bullshit, so I have taken Keith's suggestion to hit this place on up.
Will probably just use this non-El Jay thang as a publishing point for my pseudo-poetic poetry, so expect nothing more/less.
I guess I'll start putting older stuff up, just to get me started.
Hm.



a poem is a petition,
a petition is a poem.