god in new york city

the artist stops at saint patrick's
cathedral, pours his homeless heart
on cold canvass.

i stop there, too. february
wind devours the breathing tip
of my cigarette. ice gathers
at the corners

of my eyes. he does not notice,
but crushes light to liquid, pens
secret words on his page, becomes
lord of fire.

i soak up his pulse, longing for
the ( Read more... )

i'll tell you something human, dear.
i'm a crooked streetlight
kissing the dead
man in the moon.

my "best friends" can go fuck themselves in a special kind of way.

it's becoming apparent
that i need to get the hell out of here.
and that scares me
because i don't know where i should go,
or that i have the strength to do what's best for me.

"so i go
and i will not be back here again.
i'm gone as the day is fading
on white houses."

it's really hard to watch a friendship you've envied for months fall apart.

"what'd you say?
that you only meant well?
well of course you did.

what'd you say?
that it's all for the best?
ah of course it is.

what'd you say?
that it's just what we need?
and you decided this."

kill the handle.
drain the glass bottles.
numb all your problems.
take two tylenol and sleep through the morning.
hide behind a clique.
no one will see how sad you really are.
rail the lines.
stay up all night.
there won't be any dreams that reveal the day's mistakes.
lie to yourself.
and to everyone around you.
i'm fine.
i'm fine.

i'm waking up.

i hate this.

i went to church tonight for the first time in ages. and it felt so good.

Here's a high-ku for you...
duck tape sombrero
he puts out on the first date
sometimes wets the bed.

from who else but kaite curry

i just went to see the descent with brigid and brandon. essentially... take a group of adventurous lesbians, throw them in a cave with gollum-like creatures on crack, and see what kinds of misfortune come to them. to such an extent that it permanently traumatizes the audience. and of course all the lights in my house were off when i got home. i'm ( Read more... )