he’s sitting in his shadow match lit. iron sight shifting with his arrow da vinci with a trebuchet. resentment at a younger age don’t think i’ve ever fucking been the same stay still please, so i don’t have to ever aim. heartbeat on my cabernet, gospel on the interlude never into hurting you; but that’sContinue reading “crush”
Tag Archives: allegory
what the fuck do i do
the moon the moon the moon the sun the sun the moon press mute succumb doomed doomed doomed I’m doomed. we’re done who who who are you who are us? collusion contusions. so very meek you’re a cup of hot chocolate on the fiercest winter morning feel the blisters forming whistle through the windows pixelatingContinue reading “what the fuck do i do”
Protected: hellhound
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my mother used to say
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”
i know what i need
I dont know what I want whether its surface dwelling alone at the swamp or an oak in a marsh, soul searching proverbial want we’re more or less spawns of monsters nobody needs you were my star spangled banner and I was taking a knee subterranean breeze, vitamin pond, still smell your perfume every onceContinue reading “i know what i need “
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”
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?”
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.”
Explosives can be a growth experience
tired of decomposing, dried up, my dreams are dozing my body has peaked the opus, through godly retreat. I hope. trying to feel a pulse, pariah that feels opposed pinching my gripe, controlling. picture my mind in solace pitching and writhing, gritting and grinding my teeth to focus witch-doctors reveal a poem, my palms haveContinue reading “Explosives can be a growth experience”
Fireworks
Dreams and reverie boasts Roasted with pearly green chimerical gold God Delusion. Hallucinating a miracle told Where lightning strikes the conscious Lively minded. Constant. Smile by a goddess Where perfectness unfurled by Pangaea Curvy hips, sangria and rooftops Inebriated in a sea. with a jukebox Charismatic, dispelling drama. adorable gospel sings for the saga approachingContinue reading “Fireworks”