Lost in subspace, my world at peace before me, I watch her float in ecstasy. Cupping the embodiment of my love, she rests delicately upon my essence. And so I reflect the war which killed us both.
Our nightly battles wage sheath against sword with 10,000 little deaths on both force’s ends, and even flood my private suicides in glorious euphoria.
It is a foreign, yet familiar land whose bipolar mountaintops bleed milk and honey as the pop and sway and dance in anticipation for the impending apocalypse.
A Cupid’s bow receives her arrow graciously and in her decided time releases it back to the heavens screaming out prayers to the Almighty himself for a quick return to the South.
The arrow shoots back toward the Earth and kissed a hot spring on the lips as gentle boulders caress a trembling pearl along the tearful shore.
And beneath the spring is this cosmos of boiling exaltation, where fallen soldiers meet God and the soul gets lost with the glimpse of eternity.
Emerging from the swollen Earth, I aim my final blow toward the heaving Northern hillside where fireworks explode and holy water rains down on goosebumps palisades. And upon impact, our bodies and souls infuse into one divine energy for we ourselves exceed eternity.
Eternity is us and now.
We are the life’s creators ad well as its destroyers.
And together we will never be afraid.
-Jake Irvin (17 December 2012)
How To Be Alone
This is incredibly cute.
Time for me to sleep
Aw, fuck. The sun’s up.
So on Sunday I went to Glendale for my friend Camille’s birthday. It was pretty fantastic because I got to eat crazy Filipino food, meet her extended family, and bond with her sister whom is quite the rad kid.
An interesting part is at one point we decided to walk into town for a bit. We stopped at this little used book store just because it looked interesting. It was so small, but the walls and shelves were filled to the top of all kinds literature. It was pretty magical.
While looking through novels, we came across this little moss-green book that looked particularly old. It ended up being essays and short stories by Robert Louis Stevenson. Upon opening it, we found on the inside cover there was a hand-written poem from 1926. So great.
I’ll post pictures of it in a second.