I throw up my hands in defeat, because that's what this all is. It is a game with subtle rules that you don't know you break until you break them. I just want to get basic, connect with another and maybe feel a little less alienated from everything for a while. But this apparently is too complicated for me to get a grip on ( Read more... )

Make up your mind son ( Read more... )

The returning to a well trod path. Earth beaten path. Grass napping path. So I nap and look up at the sky fragmented by the branches and leaves over my head and punctuated by the sun flare. It's all so mesmerizing I forgot where I came from and where I needed to be. Then realizing I knew neither of these things I relaxed once more to that wavering ( Read more... )

I thought the moon called us both. I thought you would arrive heart open splayed yelling about creatures not yet born. I thought there was safety in hollowed out eyes but the womb lies deeper. And cozy not be. A flicker of the old senses, a smell that reminds ancient dirt of air. Remember ( Read more... )

Shall I be giving a shit now? Shall I emerge victorious from hibernation, large as all open air. Conquered dreams are the most unstable burial plots to gloat over. Conquering the body is the whole 'nother story. The cramping of hands ( Read more... )

The brotherhood had failed. There was nothing left in this burnt out shell. The building's walls smelt of mold and the paint peeled. Mortimer peeled a banana as he surveyed what was left. The rooms he had already been through brought nothing but painful childhood memories to Mortimer. His father had been a duke of the brotherhood and showed ( Read more... )

As humanity is pondered I fall from an airplane and watch the ground grow. It's the ground that's coming towards me, not the other way around. The only way to make the Earth move ( Read more... )

Mortimer picked burrs from his green hiking pants and the languid afternoon by humming low a tune his mother used to sing. He had forgotten the words by now as he no longer practiced Polish, but the tune remained embedded in his mind as a blissful bauble, proof of a more simple time ( Read more... )

Mortimer breathed a heavy breath onto the interior glass of the station wagon he had just broken into. He wrote "la Mort était ici" on the glass with his finger, thinking it more discreet than pissing ( Read more... )

I watch as the prostitute that lives downstairs climbs into a strangers car across the street. Both of them look scared to death of people watching them, as I watch them. The gay guy that lives above me is playing reggae music very loudly and I'm thankful that it is no longer house music. The gay guy that lives across from me is cooking something ( Read more... )