Faced with the grips of night ( Read more... )

Some moments are static. They're like anomalies trapped in ten thousand pages of fluid coding, spaces between thought that are chaotically silent. They're moments of radical existence than transcend normal thought processes. They change us in ways we cannot always easily or readily identify; but, they change us profoundly ( Read more... )

Into the deep, dark unknown ( Read more... )

The wine ran dry
and I waited, lust wasting, wanton,
trussed to be devoured,
and open like a flower in the sun;
and I closed my eyes,
silenced,
bottle still in hand
beside the open window,
watching a ship that set sail--
I've so many words,
but
it was so easy to follow the red herring,
all the way into the sunset

Some people think one of the worst experiences is to lose ( Read more... )

There are lucid dreams. Strange dreams, like twisting corridors around which I always know what's waiting. Trapdoors that I can reach out to tap, and like magic-- they open into another world. I don't know when these butterfly dreams began, but I've learned to manipulate them so profoundly and fluidly that when I wake up I almost wonder if I'd been ( Read more... )

Holding sunrise ( Read more... )

Light and water ( Read more... )

There's a certain amount of satisfaction that comes from knowing you've done everything you can. You've played your hand, taken your turn, and the fallout that ensues is entirely up to another living, breathing entity. How that individual values the craft of your mouth, heart, or hands is contingent on many factors. I'd wager that half of that ( Read more... )

Analog. Fading away, first with a rapid purge, then slowly grinding the gears-- a resistence, desperate clinging to that which can be no more. Then, there's the last sparks of optimism, kicked around like the remnants of a dead fire, one which no amount of breath or wind can revive. Eventually there's nobody left on the dancefloor. Eventually all ( Read more... )