cimorene

my elijah wood/daniel radcliffe now has a title.

[muertos de sed]

'there.'

he has written--elijah has to crane his head to see--'daniel's bitch.' holy shit. okay.

'you realize that if my friends see this--' elijah says dumbly, and the little fucker collapses giggling, back on his haunches, with white teeth flashing and sparkling up and the eight years are rudely stripped away again. he's twelve, and his eyes are older but he's still a boy. elijah knows, knows how it is to have always been old.

he can remember filming asylum and people talking over his head-- 'put him there, and don't let the hair get in his eyes.' elijah knows how to use his eyes. he thinks daniel knows too.

the new spiff part iii is here in

mcee's journal because it's all for her.

parts [i] and [ii].

si ya es hora de limpiar
las manchas de miel
sobre el mantel
yo nunca supé actuar
mis labios se ven
muertos de sed

--shakira, te dejo madrid

if it's time now to wash
the spots of honey
from the tablecloth--
i never knew how to behave properly
my lips take themselves away
dying of thirst.