it’s almost time for a confessional. let’s bathe our feet while we dance sediment wash. baptism in the chemical sand trekking through the barriers that barely stand in touch with invariance. writing love letters. barely legible; sun setters cantaloupe sky. dusk settles. what’s warm love in november? it’s cranberry cheeks. your tongue tingling. teeth surrenderingContinue reading “nameless”
Tag Archives: lyricist
again and again, again.
again i hear footsteps awaken the creaks in the floor again. who the fucks at the door? night stand machete laid neatly in drawer. revolver neath queen mattress. in case of a quarrel- but- there’s nothing. just repentance, contempt, intentions dissolved. gun powder, protein drinks, and penniless thoughts. could’ve sworn there was something. apparently not.Continue reading “again and again, again.”
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”
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.”
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.”
IT’S 2 A.M
hello crickets. im sad. (the wonderful thing about crickets is they’ll keep chirping if you’re talking to them)The world is at a crossroads. It’s silent and heavy. The cultures the clashes. The cancer, the caving. The careers and consultations my mentors suggest. I look at beautiful woman and I want to tell them they’re beautiful.Continue reading “IT’S 2 A.M”
HOT CHOCOLATE
HOT CHOCOLATE I walked out in the cold today. Eyes lazy. Burning cause of my allergies. Dogs chain brushing against his collar. Night time. I don’t like looking at shadows that much, they make me dizzy. Something about the abnormal shape makes my head spin. And they’re so rigid. I smelled something. That ‘time ofContinue reading “HOT CHOCOLATE”
I like fictional books. The main character is always me.
Feel the vectors into orbit, melting into fiscal porn Each waking moment. Exists to mourn the pensive rigor mortis And I hate myself so much every. single. morning. Its like clockwork. Lonesome. Staring in the mirror. See a monster. Bones drugged. Mainly see the errors. Home drunk. Sloppy. With a motor function failure Open palmContinue reading “I like fictional books. The main character is always me.”