In the morning our caravan heads west on 66 to better our position on I-30. We cross a bridge over Lake Hubbard that is more reminiscent of a bayou than a fresh water reservoir. The way the sun hits the hydrilla makes them look like thousands of tiny hands reaching towards the surface to reclaim their lives  that have  silently slipped away ( Read more... )

love everyone


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We are the things nightmares are made of.

I want to invest in a future of inversion. Wrapped up in the passion of eating red meat as I struggle with sleep. One more hour couldn't hurt, but it won't happen. A moment of silence couldn't hurt, but it won't happen. I dream of violent men doing innocent things. I think about how cold the dirt in East ( Read more... )

I'm a statue of shit coated in plastic, the novelty bicycle seat that you never sit on. I can taste the dust as it forms on my good intentions. I feel the heat of the sun as it turns all my thoughts a pale yellow reflection of the shining gold they used to be. I can't remember a time when I wasn't so condescending, when I was still proud of the ( Read more... )

Greet death

Only three more hours til my workday begins. Springfield to Wallingford, to Wellesy, to Warwick. What's another city in another state, four hour drives, and my own individual debate. I am self doubt in the absence of clouds, I am an empty pair of eyes, the product of my parents' lies. Empty word after pointless thought, another image; ( Read more... )

One Hour of sleep and I'm surprised that I still have skin on my knuckles. I've been dragging them across the rug for hours as I sit on my knees praying that you'd come talk to me. Sturbridge might as well be a coffin, a frail pine box, the perfect accompaniment for all my bitter thoughts. The cold can keep me cornered, and the snow can destroy my ( Read more... )

Room 262 is much different than room 400 of the Stubridge Host Hotel, however the overwhelming feeling of isolation is exactly the same. The same feeling I get from the oxhead tavern where I dine alone in the midst of the old and rich. The same feeling I get when I cry out for the answers that don't exist. The same feeling I get walking down these ( Read more... )

I wonder about you a lot on my way to Rhode Island every two months or so.

I wonder how It must have felt so liberating to move out of that house and into the motel with your tin god, you're hero, your guardian angel from AA. Just a piece of lined legal paper that washed your hands clean. I wonder if Niantic helps you realize that you're free. You ( Read more... )

It's just a bit of nervousness


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Its funny to think that one look at an Ed Hardy custom birthday cake and theme party could make me regret how I lived my life, but it does. I look at pictures of people I don't know and wonder what their skin feels like. If you could peel and rip it like the foil wrappers of some long lost easter basket candy rabbit, or if the orange glow makes ( Read more... )