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Archnemesis' Journal
Below are the 25 most recent journal entries.
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2007.09.04 23.26
It wasn't Dawn's usual MO to smoke and walk - usually on her circuits around the neighborhood her hands were occupied with her camera and she was focused on judging her surroundings for potential shots. Though it was enjoyable for her, it was different than the relaxation that came with an idle stroll down the sidewalk, cigarette in hand. Sometimes, though, the day just called for it, and as Dawn mounted the stairs of the Firehouse she reflected that she was glad she had taken the time to do just that after returning home from the studio.
The closer the renovations got to completion the more the photographer found herself keyed up. It was as if after a lifetime of waiting she was finally there, and it was all she could do to keep from throwing her arms around the burly workmen who came to install the extra plumbing in the darkroom. The excitement of the next step was better than any caffeine buzz, and so a long walk in which she leisurely smoked a cigarette or two did wonders to help her wind down.
As did climbing the stairs. She made it to the first floor and started for the second, a list of things that needed doing that night running through her head. She had just reached Brush Battlecat - the little snot's been hacking up hairballs on my stuff lately when a familiar voice intruded on her thoughts. It was very muffled and indistinct, but it was definitely Eilidh's. Smiling, Dawn hurried to climb the last flight, pushing open the door and turning into the hallway to find--
"I'm sorry if-- I'm okay, I just-- rough... couple of days." Dawn felt an icy sensation wash over her as Eilidh leaned in to embrace Isobel, and stood to watch as the redhead followed it up with a kiss to her cheek. "What can I do?"
"Walk with me? Or come lie with me. Either one, really."
The two women disappeared into Isobel's room, hand in hand, and Dawn was left alone in the hallway to ponder what she had just seen. They hadn't even seemed to notice her, so intent were they on... whatever they were going to do together. Standing a moment longer, Dawn then turned and stalked back towards her room, the icy feeling replaced with hot resentment. Whatever. Apparently she even likes Iz better as an ex girlfriend. Great.
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2007.06.12 01.14
Sleep surgeon
In sleep your face becomes
soft, pliable
suffused with dreams,
lips open for that next kiss
eyes closed against
the light.
When you sleep
I want to take my hands
press them to your soft face
mold it, shape
it, into something new.
One push with my index
finger and your nose
becomes the grocer's.
The press of my palm
makes your cheek
into that of the secretary
from work,
who wears blush like
she is always bashful.
Your brow indents and you are someone
I've never met, so
beautiful and new
and I want to kiss you
kiss you again
but at the touch of my lips
you wake
open your eyes
and you're you once more.
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2006.10.19 13.10
Tread Water
( +++ )
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2006.08.05 23.15
Morning Poem
Listen. It's morning. Soon I'll see your hand reach
for my watch, the water will agitate in the kettle,
but listen. Traffic. I want your dreams first. And
to slide my leg beneath yours before the day opens.
Wait. We slept late. You'll be moody, the phone
will ring, someone wanting something. Let me put
my hands in your hair. Who I was last night I would
be again. This is how the future holds me, how depression
wakes with us; my body shelters it. Let me
put my head on your breast. I know nothing lasts.
I would try to hold you back, not out of meanness
but fear. Oh my practical, my worldly-wise. You
know how the body falters, falls in on itself. Tell me
that we will never want from each other what we
cannot have. Lie. It's morning.
Robin Becker
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