2am my head vibrates, buzzes, spins slowly around in sad circles. my past attached to my guts by a frayed string and all the lights and life draining out of my veins. heat and love burning on a stagnant bonfire & still within my chest this buried thirst for poison. the fury of flesh attached to bones that will outlast all the smiles and surely, ( Read more... )

For the first time ever, Sammy took me out in a car, and bought me icecream.  It was sweet and adorable and gorgeous. Last night we stayed up all night, sitting on my back porch, smoking now and again, but mostly just reading. I read "Ham on Rye" and she read "Candy" and it went on for hours, hours, hours. This means more to me than I can possibly ( Read more... )

After battling the moronic gay-bashers in Comp 2, I went to Sisters, only to be dismayed by the level of drunkeness caused by everyone rushing to use their 8 drink tickets by 11:30. One girl -- slurring, victorious -- bragged it was the first time in 5 years she'd ever gotten them all in, right before she toppled backwards and cracked her head a ( Read more... )

I have too much going on in my head. I have to channel this energy somehow, then maybe I'd feel like walking to Pennsauken. I'm sure if I could snuggle with Sammy, I'd feel much better. Though I used to be pretty wary of this comfort derived from contact with a beloved person, I've learned to value it openly. I miss Sammy and some nights are only ( Read more... )

Bret Michaels, of Vh1's hit show "Rock of Love" has the same gray hoodie as me.

Sammy Smoot is beautiful, amazing, electrifying. I lay around on my bed all night playing music, thinking of kissing her into a white heat, get all emotional, giddy, sentimental; I let a random slideshow of Sammy memories course through my head. That freezing rooftop ( Read more... )

Today, uneventful, I float detached through words, spirals, whirlpools, images. I want to write about kids I've known, kids that glowed in industrial twilights, kids with an unquenchable thirst for poison and noise. Suburban blocks abandoned at 10 am, all the drones at work, the dropout kids left alone with their smoking and sexing and painful ( Read more... )

only time will tell if I'll allow ( Read more... )

I am a lesbian who is all about Charles Bukowski. I am someone who, as an 18 year old stripper, was exposed to the beastliness of masculinity, and never forgot it. I avoid nearly all manifestations of masculinity, yet I am hooked on the words of Charles Bukowski.

I love words. I am always reading passages from books to myself, wishing I had someone ( Read more... )

I walk outside, still in boxers and a tee, at 6:45 pm, to smoke the first cigarette of the evening, which is really the first cigarette of the morning for me. There's this feral calico cat sitting where I intend to smoke, on a little cinderblock bench I made in the middle of my mother's garden. Reluctant to disturb the creature (which my mother ( Read more... )

"my continent, I mean to speak of the radical
effect of light in broad daylight
today, I held you close
beloved of all civilization, all
texture, all geometry, and glowing
embers
delirious, the way we write: and
my body is enraptured.

so transform me, she said
into a watercolor in your bed
like a recent orbit
the curtains, the emotion
tonight we are going to ( Read more... )