While slipping from one mad situation to another the brief moment of rest I felt as the past was hushed and, like an army of hobos awaiting the scraps of a single sandwich to be tossed from the doorway of a closing homeless shelter, was turned away, but before a new more terrible future slid itself like a dull sock around my heart, I took it upon ( Read more... )

On occasion I have imagined myself eternally and fully deified before those who I feel incapable of revealing myself to, transfigured into a tragic, otherworldly martyr rotting on a cross of reflection, nailed by a consciousness sacrificing itself to beauty's sins. At other times however I feel like an impotent shrew. What determines which day it ( Read more... )

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Brittle knifey light, the excess of a floating furnace, bent back a set of wet eyelids ( Read more... )

Fishing a cube of dry eel from the spread of a tin spoon, its bulbdrenched rust glimmering like algae caught in a reef of yellow table, the weight of his bright teeth clamped down over the rim and let pass a nice slip of black coffee to obscure the taste of dessicated fish flesh ( Read more... )

White like fluttering bones, star-dressed wings crossed the garden- moving like a mist of small apparitions of moonlight. I was on a bench, next to me was a notebook. Bent pages, scribbles, ripped: strange are the frames of beauty. A small heart beating in the ink.

Ive been reading a lot of Nietzsche lately. I remember when I used to constantly steep myself in his books, and the old feelings that he once cast over me are reemerging, but in a new light. My thinking used to dwell more in his ideas of morality and god, but recent developments and revelations have made his ideas of Amor Fati and Eternal ( Read more... )

Fireworks: Screaming cloud-storming rattles, gigantic fits in the sky. Loose shimmering froth foaming from cardboard domes: wild unnatural rainbows wilting under a moon's heel.

I moved into a new house yesterday. Praise Allah and his hateful, bearded minions.

Schubert is god.

Bridging the distance between reflection's womb and the light of action I sought thought's loin and lept: a bright speck of happiness clinging to madness like a barnacle on the back of a whale, glittering like a strangled jewel in a sea of failure.