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and maybe there really is no perfection of art. maybe though, the desire to create, perfect, can be perfected and well aimed. well dug-in so that erosion wont alter without choice...

1-805-423-8098

hit me up.

goodness..how many times has art saved my life.

shoutouts to marina of boston for being the best person to talk about art with.

my mother fell today and broke 3 ribs and ruptured her spleen and minorly pierced her lung.

in other news..i have the new apartment..its nice. i dont have a phone hooked up yet.

oh i forgot to add.. my art is still amazing me.

take that however you want.

i dont know what it is..

i really dont.
but i have the strongest desire ever to see marina again and to know you.

what transgresses is expireless, is fed from the path to lead to strength in cannibal theories incarnate. a kicked up tuft of nest egg passion, an accidental tapping of reserved for rainy day reserves, uncalled for and yet she is thankful that today wont impact too loudly. she has an ink spot on her wrist and across the street a boy holds flowers ( Read more... )

my hands show motions marking of what has passed between them. what i held, back, what i attempted to hold. a light headed morning walk towards a heavy day, shoulders carry no burdens but they provide shelter for many of my friends sleep phrases, i grasp and hold the moments they forget, this is that instant where the intensity of the words of the ( Read more... )

regret flashback collects the year and year of slack to force dizzy room apologies soaring, the night was killed somewhere between no i dont need matches and somethings wrong and im crying to the same chicago songs i cried to in fourth grade but i think ive grown stronger when compared to the strength i needed during those times because its secret ( Read more... )

of course not mary.

tonight


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