brianomnidillon.com

The shape of it works
Full sail
Swift and buoyant as hiccuped cork in its goofy, looping parabola.

It was colored expertly as the line demanded. an opus of someone else’s third decade.

It’s on earth, I swear.

. :)

🐕👀

Nothing Like A Trench Metaphor To Stretch The Legs.
Subtitled: The Angel Eats The Horns Off The Goat
Subtitled Twice With A Hashtag: Bottom Of The Botton Redux #ether

Mariana, you fissure in a fired bread.
Timeless, winking wreath in the deep.
The moon spins off its loop, drawn like iron rings into the licked city.
A thousand miles beneath the foam ive sunk to hear the song.

When the hour hand clicks these days, everybody becomes the wizard.
Time isn’t on the side of good sugar and the smirk, he says.
The tune ticking a circle into our wrists knows better than us.

Mariana - the clock is a fraud,
and the calendar lies.
The sun sets inside itself like
a puzzle solved
every time you open your mouth.

Tricky fish, you are a shy marvel. A reserved gush of whistling heat.
When cold science got close enough that depth could no longer snuff the noise, it found a cymbal in a tumble down the stairs.
The depthless queen, unable to shake her audience, has made a mockery of the brigade.
Venus cloaked.
A sugared eve.
Helen made a refugee.

Oh Mariana,
You deceive your court - you stubborn wick. You have twisted every stitch around a staff, kicked into rocked tar, and blew the trench alight.

Arson was the wreath on your crib.
Lights go out when you blink.
Eat a struck match, boo boo.
Peep that good white light.
They’re sweeping Rome into the east river and building a new bridge on our sunward chins.

Oh Mariana,
One spotless felon in a crown of candlelight. One thumb in Magellan’s back. Oh, woman, I have long since surrendered this mad task. Ive grabbed it by the cheeks, kissed it on the mouth and pushed him off a cliff.

You shouldn’t exist Mariana.
You are the bottom of the bottom.
The outer space we stay baffled by.
The crusted groan of our hot hearts.
We have spent all of our lives trying to find water on another planet,
while swimming across the glow beneath the boats our own oceans lift.

It is fire eating water.
From the bottom of the bottom, the fire eats the water.
The dead water, foam.
The popped foam is the surf is earth is the hymnal in the church of the fire that eats the water.

You have been singing within me all this time.
A distant cello chasing the captain of a sinking ship.
The deepest earth is a cracked accent in the seabed.
A wet hammock shrunk in the pucker of barefaced sodium,
cut into the face of dolls by jealous brothers.
It bends on either side,
the most ancient of smirks.

You are the floor of me.
I am rose upon your depth.
Have been cold before you grinned lightning into the mud this lilting city casts itself across.

Oh love, I come across you an accident. A clumsy summit of big noise and poor stories.
Oh love, I come across you a fool. A messy life that had long ago thought you a myth.
Oh love, oh Mariana, I come across you on this sinking ship, sails split, mast at a tilt, blowing happy kisses through the spray.

I would lean eyes-first through the lick to meet you where the mouth in the earth bends.

You molten mother-fucking chrysanthemum.
Thirsty bulb listen good:
Bent pipe in a pyre,
ash in the cup.

Eat the water, fire.
Eat the water, fire.

happy birthday!

“WINGS MILLS, Md. – Baltimore Ravens coach John Harbaugh confirmed a TMZ report that wide receiver Jacoby Jones, who is rehabbing from a knee injury, was involved in a brawl on a party bus early Monday morning and was hurt when he was hit over the head by a stripper wielding a champagne bottle.”

aameils:

I don’t know what to tell you other than the fact that a giraffe’s heart weighs 22 pounds and that somebody once told me when flies fall in love, their entire brain is rewired to only know loving each other. when one of them dies, their memory becomes blank. I hope you never think about anything as much as I think about waking up next to you during a windstorm at 5 am.

(via swinters-blog)