Public service announcement:

"Why are you doing this?"
"I fuck up your head. That's a writer's job."

To put it simply:
Abreachinsecuritythelargestinhistory.
I was beautiful once but now I am skin and bones.
Every valve contraction is malicious in intent.
Sleeping beneath tree roots and grabbing your ankles on a rainy day.
The blue mood can put you underground.
We don't make sense in our own heads sometimes but we still justify
everything with an iron excuse.
You don't know what hard work is, your hands are too soft.
Lists are harder to wrap my head around these days.
We are nothing but items in a line, waiting for our turn to shine it
out.
I want to break some streetlights because its better than breaking
hearts.

we are the sins of all the world...

...and we are not beautiful.

I can see through the looking glass

I fell in a trap today.
The trappings of comfort are like a ball and chain.
I am fettered and condemned.
I placed my heart under the floorboards before they came to take me
away.
My skin has been shorn away to expose this utter duplicity.

Are you a caged dove?

terms & conditions

new york. dublin. london. paris. berlin. rome. amsterdam. a connect the dots of capitals that map out your mind. the breath of life is just another fancy phrase for an open mouthed kiss from an admirer. with all these cities in mind, we don't have any worries, just worn out soles and souls and holes in our hearts.

i will fill notebooks about the curves of your body and the softness of your skin. my body has been asleep for ages but you've dusted off the cobwebs with your easy, slippery words. fireflies light the path to desolation, and fairies perch on your shoulders like God's shoulders.

i will wake up to diagrams and fists wrapped in blood. we are the soulless of the world. the excrement. the degenerates. another few years, and the cobwebs have grown back. make my skin a bluish gray, a bruise wrapped in a ribbon of cancer. dissolve me in water like date rape and hold me over your head like something you'll never live down.

i will fill my notebooks with tales of love and love lost, and travel with these easy words from a fountain pen. i spill my ink like a knight spills his blood and wonder if it's worth saving anyone. he sings out of key but in keeping with the rules. ettiquete and chivalry are dead beasts with spears hanging out of them. entrails become extrails and hearts become dead muscles.

ancient history is fuzzy around the edges, like a peach. i'm dying to sink my teeth in and let the past bleed over my lips.