Fiesta In Nowhere
July 31, 2007
Like a pinata waiting to be crushed, I sit and hope the door will open, and you will enter.

Like a pinata waiting to be crushed, I sit and hope the door will open, and you will enter.

How many hearts have worn and aged in the time it has taken to share this thought? How many more have mended in the time it takes to read it?

In a comfortable chair.
Rum-flavored lips.
Let intentions slip between them.
Into blistering ears.
Shifting Eyes.
Await locked doors.
Suspended Goodbyes.
No more noisy neighbors.

With nothing but the most extreme heat engulfing me, I drive. I am sweating and sticking to my seat. This is a battle of will, and it is one I am determined not to lose. There is no water. There is no air. There is only sunlight and scorching pavement. How many miles have I traveled to get through this desert?

She is always sure to look in the mirror before she leaves her home. She fixes blemishes so they no longer show. She ensures every hair is stick straight and in its right place. The one thing she cannot change is the one thing that everyone will notice.

We know what this building is, but we do not know who goes there. We know what is done here, but we do not know why. We are continually seeking answers to questions that no one wants to answer. Maybe if we wait one day longer…

San Diego is less like a mirage, and more like a flat-out hallucination. Golden sun and cool breezes. Can it get any better than this?

Diamond dullard, disconnected dilettante, destitute diatribes do die. Dangerous diabolic dogma decides delusional daydreams. Fear fell flat from fifty feet, foreboding flies find full-force fermentation. Lady lover, lioness, lay like liquid. Lounge leopard, lubricated lust lord. Lake lady, labored lives let luminescence lead.

I’m sorry I forgot your name the last time we spoke, but I am hoping we can someday move past that and begin to have a relationship again.