hi. I’m okay. my name is .. (private exchange) oceanic delight. mariana trench – lets lie on the waves get lied to with promises as you wave your goodbyes the we’ll soon see each others. the i cant wait to arrives gesticulating giant, wide-eyed naivety shine Juan Valdez roast – a vagabonds variant vibe cashContinue reading “my mother used to say”
Category Archives: METAPHOR
fötter day
you can hear the… suburbia chime, zirconia vertebrae. pearly white spine glass thrown in stone houses, regular suburbia night whirring, rewind. chronicled childhood in olive drab paint monocle glass. wormwood and bottles of shawshank. dissolute solitude, wanderer who wallows in maze en route. delay for tomorrow. never promised today virgin diary. anne frank. marie curieContinue reading “fötter day”
to miss P
it was a matter of why. statuesque beauty over vodka and wine hourglass figurine. when you come around it becomes tough to tell time seductress stolichnaya. brunette, bridal, bohemian it’s cruel how without even trying you leave me in a state of dreams where I’m hardly breathing at the Gala. a seamstress couldn’t replicate yourContinue reading “to miss P”
sooo..
so October 28th. the day before it had arrived pumpkin leaflets, summers leaving, volkswagon sedan on a drive gusts of season. flannels. & walks through 10pm suburbia nights blasts of orange harvest, olfactory senses concise. lakeside and beverly creak. Lake Nelson just over in reach the crossover between the fur elise and berry stems inContinue reading “sooo.. “
Protected: then and now: im sorry. the gray just isnt beautiful to me anymore.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
July 19th, 1991.
all little boys need father figures not to be normal, or not to be sane. You wouldn’t turn on a lightswitch without seeing where all the conduits placed. You grow up with a fist full of hurt. A surge, like a missile, without hearing a ‘miss you’. But one thing is certain, nothing makes youContinue reading “July 19th, 1991.”
Don’t you get mad when there isnt’ a word that encapsulates your thoughts? So you write sonnets and songs, and poets and hymns, haikus and shit just to sorta capture it all?
sigh. the streetlight kissed your eyes & created an impression so pure. its whiteness i bring this up, bceause I fell in love by remembering my reflection off your iris. expression in its highest form, sensory designed to cure, destinies arrived. analyzed the sculpture, of course. – then vandalized your structure leaves falling aimlessly, inContinue reading “Don’t you get mad when there isnt’ a word that encapsulates your thoughts? So you write sonnets and songs, and poets and hymns, haikus and shit just to sorta capture it all?”
CONSONANT ART.
I don’t even care for breathing air, like A.) it’s clearly a mission. B.) Decided not to get angry today. It’s barely decision. Think life should be more grand than it is, but it isn’t. Can’t have regrets with being wrong, that’s why I love indecision. Sweater against chins, found myself looking for trouble. IContinue reading “CONSONANT ART.”
a parting glass, baby
the moment was so existentialist. I brought 3 apples. one for the both of us. & 1 for the road if it comes up I suppose we could split it undisclosed disposition. hanging from the hammock ropes in the stitching. there was hope, for half-robed demolition bungalow; almost out of a dream- quite a bitContinue reading “a parting glass, baby”
my last shot, i swear, man.
Sweared it’s my last shot. Promised it was. It was the electric flow to my conduits buzz. Been left alone, shadow unfollowed me. but, I got 40 ounces that say I’ve done everything but bottle it up. Hairs falling out, play a game, (because I’m so ugly, I’m fucking shot.) Count the follicles, ‘she lovesContinue reading “my last shot, i swear, man.”
SELSUN BLUE
groove to the classics, velveteen smooth, devilish antics. Never seen through my pirate themed ruse, or the skeleton captain. x-ray embellishing, developing cancer. The elephant in the room, and the rest is in captions. Subtitled. And the lexicons added, for your pleasurable view, gotta penchant for adlibs. Subdued, to my intelligence, say hello to theContinue reading “SELSUN BLUE”
close to regret
He doesn’t feel close to anything Friends are placeholders for emptiness He sings to himself while watering plants or he wants to. He doesn’t even grow plants Does thing he regrets, does things he doesn’t Regrets them both. Regret that he’s done it or did it, or was, or wasn’t. Heartbroken. For what? How doesContinue reading “close to regret”