I imagine, while sitting here thinking, tiny explosions going off in my brain.  The explosive forces slowly expand outward ( Read more... )

     To tell compelling stories we must delve into the unpicturesque.  We must bare our mistakes as facts and impress with our conclusions.  There is little interest in slight errors, we must shock with the surprising depth of our seeming naivete and then reveal that from the beginning we knew our plans to be ill-conceived, and proceeded anyway ( Read more... )

   People live secret internal lives.  For every hope and act and belief that ( Read more... )

Here I am returning to that cold stone.

Its secret is solidity, there is no center.

When I cannot confront the truth, I can aspire to this nothing.

Its essence is unknown, unknowable.

I hold it up, caress, adulate.

It is nothing, within and without.

And I thought that I would miss you more than ever today, and I do, but I don't ( Read more... )

We, will always feel lonely ( Read more... )

I've always loved words ( Read more... )

A sense of silence
And a sense of hope.

A thought unfinished,
love unexplored.

A path not followed
an open door.

The sea at night
shame unrealized.

The quiet of honesty
the wrack of guilt.

And the unanswerable
surety of truth.

For a knife must cut.

    There are times when it is enough to say, "This is what I want, this is what I believe in, these are the things that I plan to have in my life."  Sometimes however, I want to show someone the choices I've made, the things that are important to me and to have them say, "I agree Scott I think that is important too, good job."  Legitimacy to me is ( Read more... )

    I thought that after awhile I might get used to being a productive member of society, that this sense of adulthood would wear away its newness like the gloss of a carapace.  It hasn't yet.  I still feel like I'm pretending to be a grownup, just like I pretend to be concerned every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, like I pretend to be edgy and ( Read more... )