either it just gets harder and harder for me to actually speak or i think far too much now about what i should or should not say. and in both cases i always do or say the wrong thing. too many birds in this cage.

i cannot make walls out of sand

 standing behind my apartment building i match fingers to stars and the moon destroys the leaves in its light's descent to earth. the light there is so old, the daylight here is old too. it takes three hundred thousand years for the energy at the middle of the sun to make it to the surface. sitting next to you, doing the same things we always do, ( Read more... )

i have thoughts whose lives exist as goldfish in a fishbowl circling forever the center where swirling water meets at a point. and it's true, i fall asleep in terror and trip over my boots. i do not know what to say most times and cannot say what i know i must. i have written letters for the mere purpose to burn at my hand's match. and often i see ( Read more... )

 it takes hundreds of thousands of years for sunlight to light your blonde hair on fire and it'll take just as long for anyone to ever change.

 no one wants to say things out loud these days. and i surely don't. often i'll notice, when sitting down among a group of people, i'll press my teeth so tightly against each other and only realize a half hour later the tight pain in my jaw. believe me when i say there is someone behind this. no, there is some thing behind this. it is mid-may and ( Read more... )

oh, black eyes. you want a song playing at all times, a thematic convincing. reason for despair and beauty in blood. but i can't tell if it'd make things better or worse. long stalks of grass claim me where i sit. no energy for anything, no energy to bend a brain towards a singular thought. 

 somedays we have to let pass. a burning sun runs its course, much like we do.

 it takes two things - an instance of unexpectedness and words you needed to hear (but being previously unaware that you needed to hear them) - to arouse out of you the change that was needed. for this reason, though i am tired, it doesn't matter.

- there are few things better than reading southern gothic short stories before summer breaks
- i've got a few things to say but not much time to say them in
- i would like to live in new orleans in the near future
- half of my thoughts are daggers. and they are pointed at the other half of my thoughts.. which are bodies, ripe with soft flesh