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”

delicate skin: negative print 

who’s barely   intact. two hundred thousand nails puncture veins in my back whether not they’re human or metal remains to be asked  yellowpages. your name severs sapience. saps like heavens angels. vessels fray then collapse lord father, elevate us. why’m i so fixated on the past separate fact from fiction. eradicate my relapse rehabilitationContinue reading “delicate skin: negative print “

AA4564

i feel  so disconnected. pictures of stars are trillions of seconds old heliocentric. we spend our time wishing we could revisit a setting i could see it in decimals. each dot a pause in a sentence hold my hand, avalanche. bring me the check when you’re finished mezzanine at the theater, velvet seamstress, madam GutierrezContinue reading “AA4564”

dreaming of colors

I salivate at the thought of atom lasers and waves of splattered rainbow the way they collaborate on a acid halo. technicolor schemes, that i’d envy more than me. oh, what it is to be, a color never dreamed. enactment of life, elapsed by the clockwork collapsing of time. facets of ‘why does it allContinue reading “dreaming of colors”

Robot. I’m a. robot. 

I map out entire existences in the blink of an eye. I could hire statisticians for the things I’d describe. Statistical paralysis. Analysis by analytics. It’s lonely in the library, & things considered semi-cryptic. focused on the binary, I do the math on how to rule you. it’s crucial, at worst. at best, it’s the crest’sContinue reading “Robot. I’m a. robot. “

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.”

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