I feel like a vulture going against its nature or maybe itself. I sense some deadened part of me, and I want to peck and puncture and mutilate the flesh in order to tear the malignant pieces away before the entirety is infected by this blight. There's much to do, and I play coy to circumstance, fan and flaunt and fangle and fidget, God, I've become ( Read more... )

Is it really that bad, he thought? Is it so bad that even she cannot comprehend it? Perhaps, though, when one is enraptured, or, at least, detained by the attention of another, they cannot fathom again that destitute vortex that crushes everything, except for him, where he plights himself upon his strength, confides in himself (and her, for now ( Read more... )

Why would it be so easy then to go from lavish delight to some dried crust on the side of brick? I should not find it so. I don't. I think it's disgusting. I am disgusted, and this turns to some swamp of devastation. This crevice of snide clippings, hairs twiddling forth from some uncovered rock, beckoning a glove to slap away their distinction ( Read more... )

At times it is easy to bounce back and forth between the ugliness and beauty presented. At times within one hour or minute or day or however, you might see something that makes you want to die, whether it is so grotesque or so unnervingly glorious, it makes you feel as if there's little point in advancing. I feel now that everything is colliding ( Read more... )

I love morning because I am always emotional. I listen to songs, and tear up, smell coffee and have nostalgia. Lately, I always awake with knots in my stomach, half-dreaming, writhing about. I feel inconsolable in early morning, as if every thing I feel is so succinct and proper. There is something liberating about it. Something secure about

Somethings do die, and, at particular times, must be revived or resuscitated or reanimated for the simple purpose of being. I don't know where I've been, how I got to this point; I do know that nothing much has changed besides maybe my manner of articulation. I return to such a task with the same relations, the same outlooks, and the same ( Read more... )