Sep 2, 2016
Aug 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016
Jun 22, 2016
“i guess i’m a pot that calls the kettle black”
not drinking but still depressed
maybe i killed myself so often i am already gone
moon summer sleep
the dead can’t dance (never got into them)
a hallow shadow
trunks shot for murder
i’ll walk behind you and vacuum the ghost birds that fall out of your head
some people are just born ominous
your teacher was right
though
you have a knack for poetry
o dear o dear
be strong
baby boi
you may yet
score delicious
i’ll look for my sonic-bonding-tonic
we’ll build a sand castle
and a camel on the beach
stick em full of plastic swizzle
smoke some ice-tide
in the tumbling heat
put the note in the bottle
someday
maybe i killed myself so often i am already gone
moon summer sleep
the dead can’t dance (never got into them)
a hallow shadow
trunks shot for murder
i’ll walk behind you and vacuum the ghost birds that fall out of your head
some people are just born ominous
your teacher was right
though
you have a knack for poetry
o dear o dear
be strong
baby boi
you may yet
score delicious
i’ll look for my sonic-bonding-tonic
we’ll build a sand castle
and a camel on the beach
stick em full of plastic swizzle
smoke some ice-tide
in the tumbling heat
put the note in the bottle
someday
“sad bear wrapped in hunger:” may 14th 2016
*sky emoji*
did u throw out the beer bottles they make your room smell like dead mice
i’m off work today
here to cradle your big empty
jk
*watches something silver scurry through bone-bag*
wow 2016 is streaking by
yeah, i get the feeling there won’t be much slow dancing 4 me
does dust settle in your hair as you’re rotting?
did u throw out the beer bottles they make your room smell like dead mice
i’m off work today
here to cradle your big empty
jk
*watches something silver scurry through bone-bag*
wow 2016 is streaking by
yeah, i get the feeling there won’t be much slow dancing 4 me
does dust settle in your hair as you’re rotting?
“dead, i say” may 8th 2016
as we sit in ghost chairs
in the food court
holding our sweaty cans of soft drinks. [mine is pineapple fanta (almost said, fart) and yours is a diet something]
i pierced your filter. the rubber sadness of your selfies.
*and what about you and your light-bulb alter of makeup worship?*
just trying to hold back the godzilla yrs., hide the neon blood.
*summer veins*
moon jellies
in the food court
holding our sweaty cans of soft drinks. [mine is pineapple fanta (almost said, fart) and yours is a diet something]
i pierced your filter. the rubber sadness of your selfies.
*and what about you and your light-bulb alter of makeup worship?*
just trying to hold back the godzilla yrs., hide the neon blood.
*summer veins*
moon jellies
"what crawls here, in all this star blood;" april 22nd 2016
you. you are staining the blood and everything lanterns you to its dusk.
think of drills, and more silvery blood in a glacier’s wiry surf crack.
are you a snail in your green green anorak? how can i coax out your head..
vacant-man in there, trying to sleep. the poems cocooned beyond us _
a paint crash of decades, like an addiction with a triple chain-ring pulse. let me look in your
back-pack, let me freeze the snowdrift inside.
i want to throw the, ‘this’ at you, but hold you like a shell,
instead.
think of drills, and more silvery blood in a glacier’s wiry surf crack.
are you a snail in your green green anorak? how can i coax out your head..
vacant-man in there, trying to sleep. the poems cocooned beyond us _
a paint crash of decades, like an addiction with a triple chain-ring pulse. let me look in your
back-pack, let me freeze the snowdrift inside.
i want to throw the, ‘this’ at you, but hold you like a shell,
instead.
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