love is the continuation of a thousand outcomes that seem irreperable. It is the hyperbole that proves your sense of endurance can stretch far beyond what you thought was possible from the base set of emotions instilled at birth - including but not limited to fear, lust, jealousy, and a natural sort of love for the maternal. This includes the ( Read more... )

As the group of easily startled kids stepped out onto the almost diamond black street to begin the funeral procession, it didn't seem to resemble anything in a funeral at all. There was nothing somber, just the quiet sinking truths of sobreity. The rain had alrady washed away any potential obstacles from the night before, whether it was a ( Read more... )

When your eyes occasionally roll backwards, they can sometimes get a good look at your own inner musings and how you're using them ( Read more... )

If you ignore the black coal of the sun for long enough it will selectively choose to ignore you. Which moments to highlight in streaking sun, some blurring motion that allots you some indescribable tendency that leaves those with gaping holes in their chest satisfied that someone has filled it within themselves. Filled it with the unwashed tears ( Read more... )

some people live with that suicidal irreverency that I envy - burning up in a matter of seconds, but oh what a display.
somehow bent wires are starting to resemble a state of mind, like they've been twisted into mobiles spinning around with the time keeping inevitability I try to avoid.
Yes, yes that's me.

it is me that dreams of anonymous blowjobs
in bathroom stalls from
some formed entity of my disarmed lust
now
held at bay
when I'm most vulnerable.
It is not me that asks for my dreams,
in their most ideological and inflated state - taking up
far too much room, to lie in bed
peacibly.

Though I can’t remember the exact time the silence vows were instilled, it still seems as if they’ve always been around, an insulating safety on our child-like ineffable questions about the world. It was a logical step, to stop a questioning attitude that seemed to have permeated an otherwise docile population, and yet I can’t even begin to ( Read more... )

something tells me that reality is a bit more or less what you tell yourself. Death can be something acute, and yet stretch infinitelyin front of you with no waylaid point for you to worry. Death can be something you put your arm around, a picture you can have photocopied and pinned identically to every door down the hallway ( Read more... )

the three were gaily dressed for the funeral procession, the sort of flourescent colors and ill-fitting three piece suits that make the deceased wonder why he has to stay submerged in simple earth-tone and casket-greys ( Read more... )

blank bars
dead
letter society
we are the revolution.