( two )

( realizing the world around you is made of paper, part one )

sad-eyed, she purses her lips, scared to sing her silences

but if he comes back again, tell him to wait right here for me or try again ( tomorrow. )

( home )

i once knew a boy named granite, and he spoke slowly when he told me things. he told me once that he had been flying above the ocean, looking down at the blue as it swallowed up empty islands, in a dream. "is it a crime that the world eats away at itself?" granite held himself up like a gravestone ( Read more... )

there is something living in these lives

( catastrophic and cunning )

( peaks, valleys. )

( new york city in the summertime, broken seashells, toes on gravel. holding hands for the first time, sidewalk chalk, coming home to unlocked doors. simple stories about simple people doing simple things. )

living on the east coast, you see the sun rise every day from the mouth of the earth. standing on the roofs of buildings, knowing that i can never get enough of love, but that i've had plenty, even too much, of lust. the cuts on the bottom of my feet are soaking up soot, and as the dark discovers the day, the fog rolls in from the sea. the spot ( Read more... )