Hey guys-

If you're wondering where I've been, I've relocated my blog to:

http://robi.hatt.us/

It's better.

Come visit, leave a note.

Love,
Robi.

It's one here, but only eight where I should be. I'm listening to Post-hardcore, but the volume is the quietest it can be without being silent. Angry, angsty music in a whisper ( Read more... )

Fire burns and I know it because we have burned. Lies are like fire. If we know the fire for what it is, the truth appears and the lie will be no more. Cynicism is water to that fire.

She left a short letter to Dear Robi ( Read more... )

Often I feel like hanging myself from the ears ( Read more... )

The mystery of a woman
is a jar of honey for the
bees and flies,
spilling over sill
the lid lost.

But what is the unknown
that tugs and beckons-
the mystery magnetic?

Untruth and Darkness
is found at the bottom
of all jars mysterious,
beautiful and deep-
and still the fly in me
feeds on all that is me,
feeds on all that is left me.

The sky was red and screaming in anguish this morning. It wasn't the sun, it wasn't lightning or thunder. It was me. The world mirrored the battle within and the bitter, bitter cold stung my body. The pain in my body doesn't faze me ( Read more... )

For all purposes and meanings, I should be dead right now ( Read more... )

We are all bleeding heart enthusiasts in a bleeding heart world. People don't bleed for other people. We bleed for concepts. Ideas ( Read more... )

Modern poetry has turned into an excuse to dispense chunks of succinct, minimalist imagery. Most fledgling writers use imagery for the sake of imagery. These writers find problems with writing original stuff because they struggle with conjuring complete pictures of abstract concepts in their minds ( Read more... )