Tumble down for days ( Read more... )

All English Classes, holy crap ( Read more... )

            We all need ( Read more... )

So here's this quarter's poetry written for my Poetry Writing Workshop class. Some of it is just rewritten old work but the majority of it is new and not everything made the cut. Sorry if some is extremely cynical or esoteric, these things happen...

( Without further introduction... )

My schedule looks like this ( Read more... )

Fight against our fight for dramatic moments, those taught by the romantic writers and the most meaningful of the trashy television shows. The three modern vampires of patronizing class, oppressive class and high class attempt to drain life of color and contain everything in a black-white battleground. Your cold hand and my sweaty fingers are holy ( Read more... )

The wet was thorough and all embracing, nothing went untouched. It fell on our bare heads; beaded on your glasses. You were nervous and I was too confident in you to notice. I could only see my pinnacle reflected in those beads. You could only kiss me when we were alone. A thousand drops glowed in the lamplight. The same water that sighs shook from ( Read more... )

We've been told that all Hope lies with death and the eclipse of life. Appetites digesting and internalizing an idea that borders on pornography. One must learn it, or be happily conditioned. There is no living the way parents did. Despite baptism, all the mistakes of human history still dirty the finest of linens. Vibrations of paternal meddling ( Read more... )

One in the morning.

Lock the doors. Roll up the windows. No loud music. Deep in a dark (n.) place. Stay on the line. Stay on the line! A link to safety, a net, a leash.

(Hand Sanitizer).

Again, I can't stop laughing.

Not any body would do.

She told me to think nothing of it but I...

She said she does this all the time.

I'd like to feel gratitude--

We have no reason to believe you.