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for peter
A love letter to the past, rewritten ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
We surface and speak as we must. Much has happened since I last posted, although I am moving fingers and feet towards something that feels stable. Equilibrium chooses no sides. -
padlocked
There are rooms in me that remain untouched, undarkened, and uncluttered. These rooms are not for consumption, surely not by judgmental, narcissistic souls bound to their own sense of blinding truth. Truth is subjective. It changes according to the tongues speaking it; there is no universal. I keep these rooms pure for those who've always known ( Read more... ) -
blind are the cavefish
Attempting at humour, I’ve said that living in Philadelphia is like Sesame Street directed by Quentin Tarantino and Spike Lee. Having interviewed Spike in the past, I think he’d be down with a violent little brownstone where people learn real lessons of a cruel world. What I really mean is that living here is like knowing there is no moon and not ( Read more... ) -
seduction--sans the sexual implications
From the paper-written journal ( Read more... ) -
Filthadelphia
Philadelphia, black and starless, track marks like power lines in a storm weave your arms blue. Booking ink from a simple robbery gone bad smudges your fingers. Your eyes are broken streetlights, your thighs bruised the red of ambulance beacons. Your trees huddle like battered wives, leaves shimmering tarnished silver in the mid-day sun. You’ ( Read more... ) -
whereupon the author has her period so she thinks she understands female subjugation
To make a man bleed, one must cut the flesh. For a woman to bleed, she has only to wait for the moon ( Read more... ) -
this used to be my home
I've been strangely silent--not only here, but in my walking, breathing life. This journal used to be a safe haven for me, a place for me to speak of anything and everything and to not worry about editing or being viewed in the wrong way by those who couldn't translate me even if they possessed the Rosetta stone. I've a tendency--much like ( Read more... ) -
day off mix-tape
Although I don't use cassette tapes any longer, I like to call it a mix-tape. I've mixed a monster of music to accompany the day. Today, I'm home cleaning the house and getting things in order--all those little touches that make for a civilised life. These rituals remind us that we are human and attached to material objects in a way that no ( Read more... ) -
all i thought i knew
The more that I see it in this city of mine, this city of smudged windows and crumpled paper dreams, the more I feel it. If Philadelphia has taught me anything it's that everything solid I thought I knew of myself before is completely malleable. I've onion-layers that I haven't even come close to peeling; I view the world behind the translucent ( Read more... )