The ants are smaller here than they are in other places ( Read more... )

he would have gone with her if the right song had been playing.

i'm human.

I change people into things. Mostly myself. But lately I’ve been hibernating. Too much paradise crashing ( Read more... )

william blake is truth.
walt whitman is beauty.
beauty is the manifestation of truth.

god save the american night. all hail the american night. and feed me weird things. i think ill go climb some trees now and return shortly.

No more present at the moment. Everything is experience simultaneous with nostalgia, instantaneous reminiscence. It’s a certainty that leaves me shaking, knowing that the next four years of my life are to cancel out all that matters now. What has been home will only remain the place where I come back to, come back to visit. My existence here is ( Read more... )

His name is Leigh. Seventeen years prior to my unleashing from the womb, his fifteen-year-old self wanders the hallways of Santa Monica High School where I would find myself sixteen years after my incarnation. Talking in an English accent, he avoided the peevish censure of his mumbling, lazy mouth words pedagogically inflicted by his government ( Read more... )

this world knows nothing of its deeper nature.

its been a long time, im coming back home.

COME TOGETHER.

(id like to say more before i go, but french keyboards are still foreign and my fingers still stumble too much)