(I) The concrete was much softer this time. It was difficult to walk without sinking. There were thousands of little key sounds behind the main sounds that we usually hear because we are not chewing that deeply. Oh god, I feel every word but when you live like this every letter is identical, a twin to its past self and I am the one making them sink ( Read more... )

when the distant manholes flooded in fire, all day we had nighttime. My computer on emergency was the only glow. In the dark the world had slipped, floated off a cliff soundlessly as if to not bother the remnants, the leftovers who thank stars because nothing was left but my work & I at last. but from the glass door shines red and

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He went out with red herring for groceries, she drove the car. My favorite trail mix was brought for me alone, though, we exchanged sweet, tried to ease each other's long hours and situations. I am tired of missing you everytime we ruin everything.
I found the flaws first. I laughed off this rocking chair evening. I tell you if I fuck up my life, ( Read more... )

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(I) The Sunday night of moving week felt like Halloween. Everyone was out looking for something: a baby muffin tin, a cracked lamp, a literature anthology to keep my evenings company. A man drives by in a nice car asking if I've seen speakers. College kids flood from a room dressed in black with mime faces. I can distinguish the freshmen, they ( Read more... )

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He comes to life when he sees fish, chasing trout along the bank and whispering something about sound vibrations. I lose him soon, in the tall grass I'm chewed by mosquitoes; he stalks them and brings them bread. I eat cereal before I go, he's never had it before - describing his childhood equivalent: a bowl of milk filled with wildberries & bread ( Read more... )

(I) flame curls behind my shoulder & I regret I was not babysitting. i vaguely picture myself extinguishing with the only liquid in the room: a bottle of strawberry rum; I vaguely picture a colorful death. My duties are key, this was delivered to me as I lay on the stoop weeping. Chekhov's martyrs, we relapse when the going is rough - a failed ( Read more... )

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The deserted campus drowns in fog & I'm not sleeping. Lamps swim in and out of the horizon and road signs shiver to maintain visibility. I must be a ghost now; I can walk in the middle of these roads because the probability of a car is an absolute, crisp zero - the pretty bottom's smooth and concave & I'm awake for it for the first time: a roof ( Read more... )