uhohh get rid of that alarm clock,
it’s just another screen,
and in your face,
Use a brick and morder
your life is ready,
let’s get it stocked.
Laugh, feel the thunderous,
bubble coming over,
you like a typoon for a titration,
it’s a revelation,
when we make eachother’s day,…[Read more]
The Crucifix was a classical symbol of sacred death,
in today’s fast moving world,
a willow tree and a deep breathe,
can be a stretch.
A human is not like a house,
after it is dilapidated,
it can be renovated,
plugged into the an outlet of positivity,
Everything seems so muddy now. I remember when it used to be clear, used to make sense, used to be so immediate that you always knew to run. And we (I) love a good dichotomy, love the smooth edges and the way they don’t catch going down your throat.
But this other stuff–the nuance, it just tastes like too much effort. Tastes like a mud pie…[Read more]
Can I weave myself into you before you even notice? Can I burrow into the spaces between everything you think about until you think of me too? I called it weaving and it’s a great metaphor, sure, but that makes it sound so intentional. Makes it sounds like we weren’t already cut from the same cloth anyway, like this isn’t just perfecting the…[Read more]
As we weave into the thoughts of humanity,
we brink onto the mental slides of reality,
one blue pill-seed,
one red pill-seed,
In a mosaic way,
she likes to stray,
he makes a move to stay,
right in front of her moving lips,
dropping jokes and tips.
He questions as he sips his…[Read more]
We latched on to it–the idea that we were never meant to be here. Drove ourselves out of the crowd, out of the studio; we knew this was the only way to live now.
I looked over at Luce–hands on the wheel, half of her face in shadow, the other half, not my half, shining from the streetlights. She reached over me, pulling wet wipes from the…[Read more]
I want to you feel something,
shall we get away into the dark,
of the dance floor,
and get thin,
shall we crawl the night,
like were shadows of the dim.
With my hesitation,
I lost your temptation,
and now were both recollecting our lives
outside of this room,
let’s feel something,
do I need to show you something?
His chest was heaving hard and I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do. Mom was supposed to be home by now. But she wasn’t. Where was she?
Looking through the bars of the staircase, I could see the living room in full view: a circle of broken ornaments with my father at the center–talking to himself, sipping from his whiskey glass. Roxy…[Read more]
She bent down and picked up the hood ornament. It was bent beyond repair. Hopeless. Just like the rest of the shit he left her. Just like her life: broken off, laying in a pile of pavement bits, frost heaved and hazardous.
She chucked it into the trees and heard it smack against a rock. After a few seconds, though, she felt so bad, she went…[Read more]
Streaks of gray peppered her hair. No, shooting stars–Elizabeth Bishop and Lota and The Shampoo and the tenderness of your fingers in someone’s soapy hair, like a child, almost. Different, though. The tenderness of graying hair, the tenderness of aging lovers. Sometimes I don’t know why people are so afraid of their aging. I think, maybe, I’m…[Read more]
I’m banking on friendship,
do I let the thought of marriage jostle me into the jewelry store?
My friends and I ride,
the magnetic railways out to LA every Saturday,
although I love her, should I share a sandwhich with
her that never ends,
not the foot long,
the bread that never stops growing, yeeaahhh,…[Read more]
Neal was banking on her finding him irresistible, but as soon as the waiter left, he could tell she was already bored with him. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually had to try. It was making him sweat. He kept picking up his glass of water, putting it down, picking it up. He almost knocked over her glass when he was going on about his…[Read more]
Sam’s hands had harmed so many people, too many. She thought about it when she drank her coffee in the morning, when she turned the key of her car. She tried to say all their names before she could see the bottom of the mug, before the windshield defrosted.
But they told her she couldn’t do that anymore. They told her to not let the past pull…[Read more]
There are so many ways to harm. To move is to harm the molecules in the air, even. I don’t know. You can harm by not doing anything at all, the harm of inaction. Is there a way to exist without harming yourself or others? Could we trace all the harm back and back and back until we think we know how to avoid it?
I don’t know, but hey–let’s…[Read more]
You didn’t want to harm him. Everyone thinks you did, though. But really, it was an accident. Really, it happened too fast. You arm came up swinging, straight for his nose. And, in a way, you really meant to harm all of them–for laughing, for rubbing your face into the mud. But the fist hit him, Billy. But also, in a way, you only meant to harm…[Read more]
They say no harm, no foul,
but I get a penalty everytime,
anyone else but me is referring me.
Harm is conducive to that go getter’s daily jostle,
I’m not sure why I’m writing, if its for the sake of the word,
or the hustle.
I came up short when I peered into my bank account,
anything less than a million,
felt like negative…[Read more]
I wasn’t jazzed about it–my dad dragging me to this Grateful Dead cover band–but I guess they’re okay. Even better, though, the women in their tie dye dresses, waving their arms around in slow motion. I filmed it. Put it on Snapchat. Then dad saw and told me to cut it out. I told him to chill out, go smoke some more of that weed I saw him stuff…[Read more]