Time Gazing

concert noise 

cigarette amps

crushing pedals with steel toe riffs 

picking guitars 

that’s how you smoke it 

if this is the Noise they said would sweep me away

they said I’d drown under, 

be carried away by 

dreamy sleepy Vocalist

drifting in the 90s 

floating on VCR tapes and rusty groovy reels of graphic melodies, 

then I was born for this

yeah, nostalgia burning a hole in my lungs. 

Friends

ketutarwriting.blogspot.com
ketutarwriting.blogspot.com

empty boxes and black shelves of her occult books. 

here a ring under a scarf, she thought one of her spirits stole it, and there a small journal of spells, pungent with the perfume of leaves from her garden. 

the last note a paragraph on resurrections. 

I miss my friend… 

Memories of Us


died; got all of his possessions. 

dungeon load of music, hellish crime scene photos, memories of us. 

clothes; got all of her soul, Nikotine™. 

Old and crusty Make-up; didn’t know he wore any, magazines of self-loathing, rusty blades for his angry fur. 

faded memories of us. 

nothing more.

Noise

flailing under weighted blankets with the world’s sniggering vitriol dampening my resolve which never was up to it anyway like everything else or everyone I’ve known, few as they may be, and diminished by time and the noise of my tentacled senses holding me under, I can’t breathe. 

Release me. 

Quiet Kisses and a Date Night at Home

They Kiss Quiet

He kisses quiet and she kisses quiet

Nobody knows when they kiss except them

Any passion in their kiss is shared in private;
They haven’t done the French kiss;

He isn’t a prude, it’s the saliva, and besides – how do you coordinate such a thing?

She isn’t a prude either, it’s that foreign warmth, the texture of a tongue (her own tongue gives her the shivers at the best of times), what more a strangers’?

They watch porn together;
they’re fucking like maniacs, she says

He nods, adding: and so loud,

All of that sweat she concludes

They haven’t had sex, they would like to, theoretically. The idea of losing yourself in the moment, in another person, they both agree that this would be an exciting occasion. Although that’s very Hollywood, that «losing yourselves in the other», what does it actually mean, she wonders

He blunts out a theory, maybe like when a really deep song is playing you close your eyes and for those minutes you’re gone, on a another planet

She adds: In another dimension

They smile, if sex is like that then maybe it won’t be too bad, a few seconds of contemplative facial expressions, wistful even, quickly turn to frowns and furrowed brows

But the smell! And the noises! They both blurt out, laughter rings out in front of the muted TV.

Endless fucking; even in movies without sex, they manage to squeeze in something, be it a pointless relationship or love interest (or brothel, she intercepts). His words hover for a second.

The whole world is a Sex of Noise, she declares,

He smiles, nodding, but frowns immediately.
The porn flick concludes with an “Over the Moon” money shot and fades to black.

She says: I wonder what the rest of her day will be like. Wouldn’t it be funny if she went to visit the family back home and she’s kissing grandma and sister’s daughters.

They laugh and watch Classic Tom & Jerry cartoons into the mid-night and beyond.

To Delicate Flower; As you Were Once Known

©2015 Asperganoid
©2015 Asperganoid

The Sun was a crushed pill on a cracked blue glass table streaked in white strokes of misfortune.

Fingertips tingled nostalgic.

Francelle washed up on the bed like a corpse drenched in oceanic sweat, eyes floating in a black sea of uncertainty, chaos.

She stepped over the sprawled body of Lilith

Half-conscious and drowsy and sat on a broken toilet seat.

Releasing chemical waste.

Kaffeesahne

You want me to be superhuman

-i never said

The way you look at me, the way your face turns when I do something human

-you’re imagining things

I blow my nose and you tense up, you see the contents of my drawer and you act like some juvenile from the movies. This is real life and I’m a human being same as you

-yea well…

Don’t ‘never mind’ me. Are we two grown-ups in this relationship or is this a movie with cameras and no end to your imagined action?

-i don’t think I can do this

And most things too. Enjoy your starring role.

A coin dropped in The packed Kraft Café and everybody continued where they left off when he walked out the door.
She swiped her newspaper and put on her reading glasses, sipping on some coco-Kaffeesahne

Is this a Cube or an Antenna?

Grandpa:
She’s a lovely girl of course! We speak about the stars and she laughs a lot, around me at least, doesn’t fancy crowds too much but she’ll grow out of her nerves.

Bestie:
I don’t think other people know so little about their best friends, but we have similar tastes in things, I think. Gawd I’m not even sure about that!

Ma:
[Sleeping on the couch]

Partner:
She’s a million different things, not one I know, and that’s how my friends describe me. We are intimate anomalies and I love that about us. She’s been through so much, more than any one I know but here she is, living on and blessing me with her beingness. She’s my precious!

Teacher:
Hard worker, first to work, last out. Needs help with her temper, always getting into fights, but she’ll grow out of it.

Student:
She’s a bit too easy with the boys.

Doctor:
Say that name again?

2nd Bestie:
She and I are soul mates. Bonded by something everybody else struggles to comprehend. I remember she pulled my tooth out once with pliers. That person she’s dating currently is a digital apparition, I don’t want to date her, I want us to grow old together. Once I’m out of here.

Dancing in the mud

Mother sat on the beach stool out front
Watched the cars and baked in the sun
I always snuk out back like a cat
Payed HER a visit
She lived behind a locksmith shop where her father worked
Right next to a tall mountain; almost like a wall reaching for the sun
We talked ’bout all sorts of stuff.
These violet orbs hung over her head like discarded halos running out of power.
It makes my kidneys sore thinking ’bout them days.
I’ll just get on with feeding the rhinos and take my daily hike now.
Bye.

Two malicious bullets ripped through the glorious Sun one evening

The police van parked next to the hopeless crime scene.

Two officers exited; one of them grew up next door.

She had a face that projected duty; everyone was quiet.

They put on gloves, pointed and wrote notes; time hovered.

She addressed me; “The gun?”
I stuttered; shaking my head.

After writing down more notes; the officers lit the scene.

They watched it burn for a few minutes; then left.

The flame would burn for generations. Engulfing our little town.