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hello, i lied. |
11.13.2003 |
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somewhere tattered jeans is alone now. looking through anything with a pulse. the wobbly defense has been patched over the years. nearly functional. but it doesnt count. dark brown hair falling over a face. eyes closed. dreaming of being found. face down on the floor. skin ripped apart at the chest. dried up. you sound like a broken muffler when your secrets are gone. and i feel responsible.
somewhere the left pigtail loosens. freeing itself from its bounds. the pigtails rest on a head filled with wonder. wonder can be exploited like diamonds. like truth. like you. with a mouth that doesn't bend for me anymore. eyes that only flinch in the dark. a hand thats impeccable jigsaw lock with mine did so once. and it's been a missing piece ever since. and i feel responsible.
somewhere the seeked has been hiding. face in hands. tears held back. cheekbones strained. head caught in its own disillusionment. sinuses clogged. tension thick like black bean soup. a backpack of masks under a right elbow. a wish list scrawled, with creases from where you pressed it against the buttons on your shirt. you have been tapped of more than you know. and i feel responsible.
somewhere brown eyes have been injected with the cold of empty breath. knobby knees and loud ankles. appearing to be running. without looking back. partners in holding our breaths. your gasp almost tripped me up. a cardboard cut-out that i can dress with my own fears. if you won't let go, whisper it in my ear. and ill tell you when to cover your eyes. but your upper teeth grip your lower lip. and i feel responsible.
somewhere take once daily is overwhelmed. the plastic bottle is under the sink. the answers don't exist. the innocence was shot four years ago while walking the dog. you are not there anymore. but you'll be back in ten hours. you couldn't go all the way. she holds your collar just like you hold mine. collars rip. and i feel responsible.
somewhere get up girl leaves her hands at her sides. eyes not diverting from blue. raised head ready to kiss. a two-sided fix with an end more complicated than the broken paths it follows. timidly. with hands in pockets. driven by the snickers, her lips part mine. sealing permanence. and i feel responsible.
somewhere desire unleashes fear. sheathed for fourteen years, something had to. cerebellum smoke break. tongues on ritalin. and for a few moments, we are not alone. four out of focus hours. then, no continental breakfast. no brewing coffee. no fm radio playing beethoven's fifth. only an axe on the ceiling. that you think looks like its falling until it strikes your chest. and i feel responsible.
somewhere i think buried hatchet waits for the words. because a shoulder blade scar isnt the only mark these days. i might have said them when you were asleep. because my words arent careful enough for when youre awake. but i might not have ever said them at all. you probably had a dream. where you were invincible. because that's the kind of dreams that you have when youre fourteen. but youre not there anymore. and i feel responsible.
somewhere god is watching the world series. satellites are oh so cool. i think that if i stood up, i would look too healthy. i think that if i opened my mouth i would sound too righteous. like i was ok. i think that if i dropped this. i think that if i shut up. you would be enshadowed. you would be forgotten. this side of you would rust. and i would feel responsible.
somewhere all of this happened. somewhere all of this burns. somewhere all of this is lost. somewhere all of this can be found. somewhere is in the darkest places. somewhere dying with your sagging eyes.
eight people. eight lies. how can i not feel responsible? |
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| 5:27 am |
the kidnap kid said this. |
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| more frequent updates? |
yes, yes, children. we are back! be sure to sign up at the mailing list below to receive notices on phrensick updates.
we will be updating our list shortly to those of you IDIOTS that checked up on the site while we were on an eight-month hiatus! |
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| mailing list! |
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god, phrensick's always on the cusp of technology. |
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| POLL |
last night, phrensick polled the current 40-man roster of the MILWAUKEE BREWERS to find out their favorite and least favorite posts.
2003 Milwaukee Brewers favorite post:
XANDER'S "Owimoweh, Owimoweh."
2003 Milwaukee Brewers least favorite post:
SUI GENERIS'S "Popcorn Carts."
(poll was taken of the seven players that returned their questionnaires) |
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| response to POLL |
all i have to say to the milwaukee brewers: sarcasm and base hits... who would've guessed the brew crew couldn't get either?
~sui generis |
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