Breathe young, man ( Read more... )

Glass ashtray on the Bible next to me; loose and burned tobacco scattered across the word 'Holy'. Holy cigarettes. Holy monotony. Holy hipbones and the underwear they rest upon. Holy thoughts about holy places, and the holy things which could be done there. With holy on the brain I reach for my angelic vitamins and fly a few into the air above my ( Read more... )

Sun-drenched, acid-washed boys rule the upper stratosphere with their inteligence and their zaniness and their good looks. Bud-light and grass are no longer status-quo...Now it's grain alcohol and methanphetamines. No one tumbles through the puddles at dawn anymore...they just wear shirts that are only made for tumble-drying. Polly Polyester and ( Read more... )

I recently remembered my mother keeping us up all night in her bed because Mike Zapone (an ex-boyfriend. Abusive) called her and said he was coming over and specifically told her to keep an eye on her kids. This happened often. She would tremble when she heard a twig break outside ( Read more... )

I am not sure I can still write ( Read more... )

But the man sings like an angel. We often forget when listening to such classics as 'I'm Alright' 'Footloose' and of course 'Highway to the Danger Zone' (Though these songs are timless 80's classics, they don't capture the seraphatic vocal essence that is...Kenny Loggins). To fall off the cliff of mediocre singers into the depths of the cool Kenny ( Read more... )

I crept inside my shirt with a delicacy that only 24-year-old bachelors maintain; constantly scouring the walls and ceilings of the world for women; they must keep their hands slow and direct. Handing a drink, sliding thumbs across the angelic curves below the backs of women in a smooth black dresses. Yes. They must know what their hands are up to ( Read more... )

Sometimes I expect my cigarette to start melting and drizzle bits of itself down my forearm. Like a candle ( Read more... )

Today my sister is a teenager-

and tomorrow I am in my twenties...

There are certain moments which breed salivation and sharp juts of moon juice straight up all the little hairs on your back. Certain...angelic stretchings of the cheeks to form grand grins. Certain perfections that live in the quakes and the cracks and the crevaces of the universe. We were given fingers in order to scoop up these fragments of time ( Read more... )