whoisphillip

An apoctalyptic spectacle -heat seeking missile, Missile trained on heartbeats, adrenal gland activity, a need to be seen. Some say this is the end, the interactive buy/sell/trade yourself/eachother. Some say this is how Revelations spread like oil on water. Be seen and heard by everyone, spread like disease, be hotter than a drought and soon, soon your time will come.

Lips lips eyes lips "Look what you've done," eyes eyes "I see you trying to hide behind your pretty face," cheekbones lips lips lips "How could you?" eyes eyes "I loved you," heart gut "How could you," eyes eyes "have kissed her?" lips.

Glow-in-the-dark toys, so far from baby Earth's reach. Make a wish, young one.

I  can't pinpoint exactly when I stopped being able to express myself in worn out metaphors. It may have been the day I used the oil pastels to try and make someone I thought was sick look sicker, but he just came out looking golden, like a trophy, like the Oscar I deserved for tricking everyone into thinking his pains were mine and mine were his. It may have been before, when I renounced the English language for not having enough words for love. I found out there were five in Spanish and they all referred to different things. I told myself that I was cursed, a lowly native English speaker, that I would always be left guessing at what love re

My loves are far away hallucinating hot heat on cold nights with their sweat chilling them and heating the oxygen in the air which penetrates their bones. They are in a place where paved streets give way under dinosaurs and all the animals are made of amalgamated metal and plastic and they will kill you on a whim (except the rabbits; they are nice). My loves like sandboxes more than most people but less than most cats do. They waste food with drink and waste time with me, but they waste less time than I do. My loves live and love each other in various locations, both real and imaginary; isolated from me and themselves by way of skin a

I like to speak when I have nothing to say, when the whole world floats across me like I am a calm lake and everything around me is a slow, sturdy boat. I guarantee that I will comment on how odd it is to not have seen a boat in so long. I guarantee that I will tell you how much I miss having it's bow part my surface and dealing with it's wake. I will talk non stop about the roughness of the ocean or underwater volcanoes, as if I have experienced them as if once I was them, so much deeper more mysterious and violent than I am now. I haven't noticed that the nights have been full of red skies, or how good the weather's been. The wor

Down where the leg goes perpendicular there are 26 bones in 3 sections. I could name them all if given a map, thank them individually for letting me stand on them. I don't remember learning how to walk. The story states that one day I just stood up, put one foot in front of the other, and toddled off. Without any previous practice, experimental arguments with gravity, I stood on my feet, and walked. I have never properly thanked the phalanges of the toes or sent a thoughtful gift to my tarsometatarsal joints; I have, however, cracked the joints in my feet simply to make the squeamish squirm and cracked the skin on my feet that w

Diviners, rejecters, and early adopters- does derision still deter you? Love have you met her - and- Peace have you seen her naked body, blemished face? Holy Spirit are you moving? How are you if we are not? Stir and back flip - kick me- so I know you still exist. Derision, derision, love beside me sorrow sits to rest. Divinity will filter back, we will meet her and meet her again. Our minds are naked, open, wanting, grasping at our hearts and gasping at the gaping absences we find when we search within each other. Peace and Love are beasts, kicking screaming cowards: Peace a violent novice and Love can't swing an axe. Th

My stomach is on strike; sick of being stuffed with tepid soups and lukewarm lunches. My gastrointestinal trade union rejects every offer I slide down my esophagus.