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”

there’s tragedy in the stars

who would’ve thought that losing resolve was such a lucrative sought after muse? because true tragedy talks volume but the channels on mute. channeling through galaxies having to move supernovas with raw: passion. any intuition is an intuitive loss. so superfluous, the way it happens; a dying sun sparks creative patterns. tiresome survival at theContinue reading “there’s tragedy in the stars”

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.”

unfinished love gimmicky, smug grinning combustible bunch.

puncturing flows of buttery colors, exposed in post and pre nuptial showmanship. Function control amusing instrumental. effusive, ode to hold this angel to a centerpiece basil, with cloves, of energy that exposed a masterful synergy a weeded rustled drone, that tumblerode a the quietest depiction of the color blue on a petal succulent. moss growsContinue reading “unfinished love gimmicky, smug grinning combustible bunch.”

Flown off course

“Vaudevillian. I’ve flown so off course that my radar doesn’t even beep it’s silent, instead it weeps for some recognizable aura of man to detect signature heat, thermal readings. nothing Become so abrupt in my comings that most of my time is spent twiddling my thumbs I’ve flown so off course, a meteorite that hadContinue reading “Flown off course”

Electricityyyyyyyyyyy

“incandescent. i’m pregnant with my words pregnant as in, ready to burst and give life where it’s needed, or not irreverent, moment of shining where bulbs of luminous lime invoke a poisonous vine. it’s similar in fashion when I couldn’t feel a feeling twice, it’s only one time that I felt it like, I can’tContinue reading “Electricityyyyyyyyyyy”

guillotine lust

particle physics; radiation cusps at every speck and a grain that didn’t mean infecting the inflections as your hypothetical claim bite the bullet. swallowing the pistol. it shoots harboring a hollow feeling. sipping miller to boot coil gripped Corona, drowning out social persona were evolving into moths, wallowing towards the murky gray skies. yeah, theContinue reading “guillotine lust”

Freshly dressed tourniquet

Empyrean cosmos. This feeling I swallow; it’s real. It’s hollow, but there. I know it. It’s growing, a hole full of sorrow, it’s weird. Some sort of eery control. It’s sculpted out a grave in my heart, it’s six feet into my soul. Clay soldier statue that’s woven and wound up by fear. Wounded byContinue reading “Freshly dressed tourniquet”

IT’S 2 A.M AGAIN, wooohooo.

  its 2am i feel interconnected through any vine or snippet of life perennial inflorescence of any 6 seconds are chimed the success is a hive. hummingbird wings in slow motion hearing the crickets sing, so monotone yet obscurely composed feels like they’re talking to me, as i walk on the leaves that i crossContinue reading “IT’S 2 A.M AGAIN, wooohooo.”

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