For the fifth time on this trip Sarah with an H. aka “The blond one” tells me she “was thinken the exact same thing.” And I am relieved I’m not just that uneasy to please. Or at least if I am, I’m not alone in my dissatisfaction. Misery has company in her failed attempts at carefree fun. Sin city, unlike most places, is just as bad as its most ( Read more... )

But there’s something about being in the back of a cop car that makes me want to break the law more then on your average 3:10 am adventure away/to home. When he tells us its dangerous walking Santa Cruz streets at night being two females because of criminals and drunken drivers turning corners with out care…because no one, not even he drives the ( Read more... )

...way funnier performed in person though..if i can ever memorize the sucker ( Read more... )

My anti Co-co slips me a small bag of pills and sticks her tongue out at me giggling saying “you cant have the ones cut in half, I grind those up and snort them.” I laugh back in a way that tells my mom I’m still innocent, but spills it to Colleen that I know from first hand experience how fun that is. It’s been years since I spent a decent amount ( Read more... )

Inspired by & written in the margins of “Fight Naked”/ True Tourettes Tales & Poems for Pyros” by Jamie Kennedy ( Read more... )

dusty faded angel guides my pen across pad, mind across past. candle bearing porcelain winged night-light made in Taiwan becomes a torch in the night for thoughts who have no dim switch and because all my belongings (like a real night light) are in another city. home has mauled itself into a theory instead of a destination and the holidays are only ( Read more... )

It is cold, but snow cakes a coffee table instead of a windowsill and I can’t help but slather a page with broken analizations ( Read more... )

I can't tell if he is staring at her tears or the way her bottom lip curves under the bite of her uper front teath. their eyes meet not because she is bold, but because she just doesnt care. despiration often disquizes itself carefully as passion, it often manifests itself as passion as well. she slips fingers over wet cheeks and takes notes about ( Read more... )

eyes closed for half a second, my voice fluctuates like Lauren Hill's on a burbon binge still managing half hazardly to dry fuck the rhythem smoothly--jagged---raw in all the write places, but half cocked, immature yet pure in intension. oakland is damp. the streets just wet enough to make the streets and my female friends drunk libido slippery. " ( Read more... )

This morning I woke up to the sound of my roomate playing "Such Great Hights" on her guitar. us sad artsy suckers have finally convinced her that some emo...really is good. the sound hung in my ears and reminded me of everything irrational, and scared but beautiful i've tried so often to forget. a single tear escaped from its tear duct and i wanted ( Read more... )