Sand for feet

Art, fucking art.
I cannot see
how much i speak,
so i turn and flee.
The words must be,
a way for me,
to act, to be
so god damned smart.

Buckets for wings

Buckets for wings,
oh, i cannot sing.
the rain fills up
my mouth, water runs.
It flows down until
the sun drinks it
straight from the cup.

Everytime i go into a public arena, i feel the urge to scream. Scream at everything wrong with everyone around me, which is me. I feel an urgent need for a change, but i can't help think that the world around me is composed of people, people like me. What is so wrong with me? We all feel urgent in the face of adversity. But time wont allow for what ( Read more... )

This is a halloween poem ( Read more... )

It rains and leaves, the sky to fall ( Read more... )

Fiercely forboding flames ferment feelings fickle for freedom.

I wrote these for you ( Read more... )

The ending is akward and dismal. That's just right, you know? Any story with a happy ending is out of touch with
reality. Which is cool. But, its just like people to make stories with happy endings. Noone wants to go to hell.

1 ( Read more... )

Lets take a walk ( Read more... )

Years if traction,
this love is dead.
for the most part,
we will part.

And you know what
will happen next.
These years will forget
their days and
blur into one sad memory.

the sun is falling
shot dead in our tracks,
the sun falls from the sky
and we sleep alone for eternity
no more changing seasons.