Flist Trim.

down from the door and back again
I just tidied up access here; I removed journals that seem to be dead or who I haven't spoken to in ages. If I mis-clicked, or if you were avidly reading every word and I just didn't know, you can let me know here.

(Also, if you can see an entry after this one, you have not been removed.)

Apr. 16th, 2009

time to make a mess
Oh my god
What have I done
Chasing some mirage in my Mojave sun
Don't say every chance is lost,
Please don't say anything at all

In sand and thorns
I'm walking forth
Bare and blinking as the day that I was born
Bells in spires of China white
Ring for an Augustine tonight

Oh now, I'm breaking down
Oh let me be
Let me be your Augustine

Lead me now
I understand
Faith is both the prison and the open hand
Bells on low on high
Will you ring for Augustine tonight

Oh now I'm breaking down,
Every illusion in between
All the lies that I have seen
Oh let me be your Augustine
down from the door and back again
Title: The Yellow Lord's Lover
Author Name: youraugustine
Fandom/Original: Original (Rabbit Hole)
Word Count: 2002
Rating: 18A
Warnings: Possibly disturbing content (for those of you who know my writing: it's RH, after all)
Disclaimer/Notes: Late, sadly, because I cannot for the LIFE of me keep track of what date it is this week and I swear I thought today was the 31st.

There are many stories of the Strong told in Faerie.Collapse )

Mar. 30th, 2004

down from the door and back again
it's desert ice outside but this diner has thawed my ears
hot coffee in a clean white mug and a smile when the waitress hears
that I was born in North Carolina
not an hour from her home town
and we used to play the same pizza parlor pinball

and there's a glance in time suspended as I wonder how it is
we've been swept up just by circumstance to where the coyote lives
where my days are strips of highway
and she's wiping tables down
holding on and still waiting for that windfall

but I've come home
even though I've never had so far to go
I've come home

I pay the check and leave the change from a crumpled ten-dollar bill
head across the street where VACANCY is burning in neon still
well the night eats up my body heat
and there's no sign of another
and I find myself slipping down into that black

but things are good I've got a lot of followers of my faith
I've got a whole congregation living in my head these days
and I'm preaching from the pulpit
to cries of “Amen brother”
closing my eyes to feel the warmth come back

and I've come home
even though I swear I've never been so alone
I've come home

I just want to be living as I'm dying
just like everybody here
just want to know my little flicker of time is worthwhile
and I don't know where I'm driving to
but I know I'm getting old
and there's a blessing in every moment every mile

thin white terry bars of soap and a couple little plastic cups
old Gideons Bible in the nightstand drawer saying “Go on open up”
well I'll kneel down on the carpet here
though I never was sure of God
think tonight I'll give Him the benefit of the doubt

I switch off the lights and imagine that waitress outlined in the bed
her hair falling all around me
I smile and shake my head
well we all write our own endings
and we all have our own scars
but tonight I think I see what it's all about

because I've come home
I've come home