Blood Brick
----

The sky was a midnight grey, vomiting violent gusts of wind and a slue of hail. The clouds opened up, ominous and foreboding, withering away under the dime-eyed gaze of the moon; the blankets of ghosts, celestial, ethereal, shuffled into the barrels of night, into the solitude of the pestilent world. God had bestowed on this ( Read more... )

-----

It was most certainly not always sunny in Philadelphia. In fact, it was almost never sunny at all. Well, this was only necessarily true for Baxter Dumont, age 28-for in one spontaneous evening-turned-early-twilight, he had orchestrated a master plan to block out the sun indefinitely to prevent it from further disturbing his ( Read more... )

Scotch Tape Lullaby

------

It’s something in the water, brewing underneath the surface, embedded deep within the fine lines of the unconscious mind, and threaded in the back of the throat. It comes naturally, occurs as happenstance as the ghosting of a whisper, appears as quickly as the tear tracks sprout before dissolving-stray vapors seeping ( Read more... )

Not Golden

Those brass memories
seem to lose their sparkle
their fizz
As time’s glitter
Subsides to but a sheer
Sugar coating that once belonged
To better days
Hasty days
When life was a battleground
And it was best to bear your wounds.

In the green of day
the frill and froth of night overwhelms
overcomes
casts forth
and sinks into the voice of one
two
three

The ( Read more... )

                    Art has and will always remain an important part of our culture-from free form drawings, rock ballads expressing the need for change, elaborate and time consuming masterpieces, songs steeped in subversiveness and intense ardor, to the most rudimentary of all art forms, the stick-figure. More often than not, art is not intended ( Read more... )

That's right: it's ALL about you. Fucking had it. Get over it.

You can watch this video on www.livejournal.com

Kind of how I'm feeling.

I feel stripped down and bare, but why not share? I'm tired (defessimma!), un-enthused, and lacking in aspiration. And right now, I feel blank myself.

A Blank Slate

I believe in the blank page. The blank page is uniform, sharp, anticipatory. It’s intimidating in its vast expanse of white, but unrestrictive in its form. I do not ( Read more... )

I'm absolutely sick of this, so much so that I should probably be strapped to a gurney and transported to the nearest hospital, via ambulance of course (just because those things are oh so exciting). It's to the point where if you're going to bother coming around at all, or voicing your opinion, you should stick to the routine 'hey, how are you?' ( Read more... )

Current muse:

( Read more... )