to be lonesome in an empty house.
wanting to call you.

salt runs off skin as we over-invest in ocean sand light weighs on us these are our eyes evidently slight dim as a dream where lids heavy with sun sink below cheekbones' crest and you find this darkness is yours for life when you stir the window is open your salt thick tongues are corrosive with the returning need for sex as rough and as dull as ( Read more... )

i haven't been writing. the words in me tangled and unworthy. speaking in computer tongued type. lol ttyl, and this and that and i dunno man like whatever. gtg ( Read more... )

"But you're only seven," I said.

yes,

it seems silly to live your life for one moment.

so i'm pretty much a rockstar.

From a distance only the light is visible, a speeding gleaming horizontal angel, trumpet out on a hard bend. The note bells. The note bells the beauty of the stretching train that pulls the light in a long gold thread. It catches in the wheels, it flashes on the doors, that open and close, that open and close, in commuter rhythm ( Read more... )

my fingers creep over keys like ants on honey. just to suck up some sweetness ( Read more... )

my body tells me
there is no need for these words
and vomits them away