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torn_ribbon_lips
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jane
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no blood runs in her veins, her
dried up river capillaries
pale skin like crepe paper stretched
over bleached scarcity
hair like golden straw,
flecked with ash and silt,
tugging backwards on her neck vertebrae
her eyes are no less bone than the rest
of her skeleton
her cold hands creep up your back
late at night, shivering your scalp
inappropriate musing, whispers
from torn ribbon lips
stab her with a cactus spire
out pours dusty light
covered in old caked makeup
poached peach champagne
coated in dust
even as she bathes herself in stean
no moisture permeates her skin
she scatters like roaches
when light approaches
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050115
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egger
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*silently applauds*
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050116
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camille
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torn ribbon lips...brings back a child hood memory
my lips were parched in the hot dry sun
a music box melody played down the street
ice cream truck.. cold ice cream
so cold that when i put my lips round the fudgecicle, the fudgecicle froze to my lips.. in a panic I pulled it loose from my frozen lips leaving torn ribbon lips..
they healed eventually
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050116
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Q
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That's pretty gross. But not as gross as what happened when I thought it would be cool to kiss the hood of my Dad's new '56 pink Chevy at 30 below zero.
Part of the beautiful car got much pinker, as chuncks of my wise ass mouth flapped up and down in the bitter wind.
I still do not know if my Dad or I was more freaked out. The car didn't seem to care.
Everyone did recover, I think.
At least my ability to kiss well those whom I've intended to, in response to what I've perceived to be some interest on their parts in my doing so, has never seemed to have been impaired.
While some I could honestly characterize as having been icy, even if not frigid, none has been nearly as cold as that beautiful car.
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050121
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Q
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And the next time I mean "chunks," I'm going to spell it correctly, I hope.
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050121
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camille
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cracking up.. not laughing at you..just the thought of spontaneous frozen kisses..
The other morning I heard a dog had managed to freeze to a hydrant , in all seriousness
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050121
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