My name is Casey

Like Most Revelations

It is the movement that incites the form,
discovered as a downward rapture--yes,
it is the movement that delights the form,
sustained by its own velocity.And yet

it is the movement that delays the form
while darkness slows and encumbers; in fact
it is the movement that betrays the form,
baffled in such toils of ease, until

it is the movement that deceives the form,
beguiling our attention--we supposed
it is the movement that achieves the form.
Were we mistaken? What does it matter if

it is the movement that negates the form?
Even though we give (give up) ourselves
to this mortal process of continuing,
it is the movement that creates the form.

Richard Howard


You turn to me with frozen lips
Your hands are icy cold
Your eyes burn bright against the frostbit sky
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight
Pale on the horizon,
Like leaves frozen on the snow
Our two shadows merge inseperably
And time stands still as its pierced with cold

The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you

There's a warmth in my heart
That haunts me when you're gone
Mend me to your side,
Never let go
So time knows nothing
We'll never grow cold
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you
Twilight descends on our silhouette
How soon spring comes
How soon spring forgets
I wanna hold time, say it'll never begin
Old man winter, be our friend
Old man winter, be our friend
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
What's simple is true
I love you
I love you

designed by jo naz

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

 

Well, well well, the fateful day has finally come. I am about 14 hours from looking a fear right in the face... He's worth it though... He's so worth it.

Why is the idea of paint dripping off of arching bodies so sensual? I'm painting desire... shhh don't tell...

I feel the thoughts bubbling, the ideas rising... I don't ever come here with something planned out to say. I come because I need to say something, today I just don't know quite what.

I want to be perfect. The problem is, I don't know what perfect is. I don't know what weight I want to be at, what color my hair should be, how my clothes should fit, how I should speak, act, smile, walk, blink, breathe... I couldn't tell you what perfection is but like a blind person dreaming of monet I dream of becoming that, exiting my cocoon and metamorposizing into something wonderful. I wonder at this obvious problem sometimes... how to change myself if I don't know what I'm changing too.

I tend to be uncomfortable with forced change.

Have you ever seen a piece of a bottle that has been washed for what might be years by the ocean? It's beautiful, milky, soft... It's changed as a result of its environment. It adapted, gave away it's brittle edges... Somehow I like that. As much as I respect the process, the idea of taking a thousand cuts at myself scares me away... Makes me doubt sincerity, even.

No, that's not what I'm thinking.

The idea that he's an entirely different person today than he was even a few years ago gnaws at the foundations of my belief of human nature. If being a good person means defying your nature... is that good? Is the natural, in fact, good. Why would be start as something bad?

It leaves so many questions in my mind that I don't want to ask.

You know what I want? I want to dance. I always feel perfect when I dance. I don't feel unattractive, overweight, unintelligent. I.feel.perfect. Everything is so engrained into myself that I can't help but believe that this is what I was meant to do... if I could spend every second of my life dancing, I would be happy.

I love you |10:02 PM