orange light trails over the singapore river.
mirrored silhouettes flying the same kite.
a tattooed girl in a sun dress standing in the rain, reflected in hurricane green.

the need to crawl towards the sun is a craving not easily satisfied.
but i'm on my way.

again.

I can't think of anything worse after a night of drinking than waking up next to someone and not being able to remember their name, or how you met, or why they're dead.

i'm still dying every night.
i keep waking up every morning, 
twilight in dawn's place, 
not knowing which of the seven of me i will be.
from red to violet,
illuminated with flammable colors that did not exist yesterday, 
the orchid bleeds onto my skin,  
leaving my existence to dream itself into a sparkling pool of liquid fire. 

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there's a spider in my head ( Read more... )

 
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a carousel.

it's pretty to look at,

you don't really want to ride it.

to accommodate everyone, it's stuck on repeat.

the saturday before last, i drove up to austin to see dax riggs play in a tiny room called the continental club.
the show was at midnight.
( i left at seven. )

you'd be 199 years old today.

rest in peace mr. poe.

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