Deranged.
kitten   April 25, 2008

In hazy nights and digital screens, she knows she has control; in this environment, in this reality. I can almost taste her longing, her courage, her mentality. The mindset of something pure, something twisted, confessions spilled out in lonely hotel rooms in the night. Through darkened soulless days, she fills her head with travels, and fantasies I never could ignite. That heart I want to feel, lost to freedom, caught once in a photograph of my own imagination. A single image, frozen still, of beauty unrelenting, of mirthful hestitation. Reaching endless in despair when there were none left, my own fears needing to be saved. In the gloom she appeared; through the chill and through the fire, she turned, and smiled and waved.

Afterfire.
kitten   April 20, 2008

Before the mirror, clad only in a towel, she brushes her hair with sure, decisive strokes, each one seemingly calculated to an end I can't quite fathom, torquing the brush with each pass. There's a rhythm to the movement, and the sound of those long red strands unparting crackles like static. My own hair is horribly disordered from the sins of the our wine-dark night as I watch from the edge of the bed, head ablaze, tracing her outline with my eyes. And when she catches my darkened eyes in the mirror and turns to ask What's wrong?, I tell her, Nothing, just watching. I don't tell her how disappointed I am that she isn't you.

Sharing.
kitten   April 15, 2008

Rain lashes against asphalt and sheet metal. Unnatural and inert, I take it all in, lying in bed where your scent never was. Times like these happen all too often, when I reach for you with insensate certainty, there to find nothing, fingers straining into emptiness, clutching dust of dreamlogic. Here next to me you were never, nor never may be, and all the voices I've known have told me to forget you. All the voices but one: yours, the most sonorous of the chorus, lilting and insistent. It's that voice to which I devote myself, and remember. That singular voice which drowns out all others, scrapes through my mind, and leaves me addled, fearful, and completely secure.


kitten   April 11, 2008

Several new hours' worth of new music are now in rotation, and I've been trimming out others, just for the variety, you understand. It's like polishing a jewel -- a little here, a little there. This week look for selections from Run Level Zero, XPQ-21 and remixes thereof, The Secret Meeting, and the ever beautiful Frightdoll. There are also a few tracks from Lorin Richards who sent me a few CDs and is worth checking out for anyone with an appreciation of literature. Listen and you'll see why.

Big thanks to Spain-based Legion for great aggressive industrial tracks, and for putting together the first official mirrorshades radio commercial. You guys rock.

Fatal.
kitten   April 6, 2008

Early morning brings a thin light spread across the sky, cold and gray and distant, seeping through windowblinds to keep me awake. How I miss you now.