Dec 10, 2015

“waitin 4 u in the”

green lobby.

outside the weather seems
confused &
a murderous trap
i hope u didn’t get into an accident
you’re always so tragically
going in alone

sitting at the bar are a couple of tv men
plotting culpas

i get on a bar-stool like
a bad ass hot line
bag full of stolen time

imma order a
‘hexameter in your heater’
styler cryer! why u so mama-mia

mea late?

“i think you look like an owl in those particular glasses”

but you’re cute when you aren’t crying &
you have a great voice & i feel your sad lines
cuz i was once like you
so ..

if you die
folding your molding elegy


around some shit-head’s bed and/or bar

you in a bad suit
if augur were a color

cadence is so your forehead

Nov 1, 2015


I guess we’ll winter the backyard recipes.

Since when does the idea of calling home “fill you with creepy
feelings, like centipedes”?
Passing hell because somewhere coats are on sale.
Bees are the sun, Lion Girl. They know suffering.
You could check on the dogs, you know; those old comedies

of misdirection.
I moved my desk into the summer wardrobe,
the one with the haunted wi-fi.
Someone tried to fax
hair to Dad. We’ve strung the house
with network points. Don’t trip.

“because u miss me”

in black
with u
@ A party

i exist &

shining ghostly in that movie ,
your dead flowers ,
the hook of away

“a way” ?

no -
“away” .

we played dominoes
like shapes in a poem
u drew the pentagram on my car
off key

“sleeping beauty wakes and says”

my arms are just arms
the mammoths draw

hey baby :

ghost texting

Sep 30, 2015

“notes on why leaves must have their comeback”

the oceans leap
from hot to naked
divinity stays at the lake

i so
went clean

when u gonna leave
the burning lie
the bong drinking smokers
a death poem for cutie

something is linking your mind
2 my atlas
u can be: the sunset
on tourism
on vast pale panels
the flaring care curve
of amerikan thighs

hold october
with a credit card
act out
the entire shogun haircut
{mountain based with clean bangs}
livetweet a razor for true blood
spelled-out as i c e

Sep 25, 2015

“Beyond The Wall Of Sleep”

all heads:

& sexy

a shoe in each hand

politics in 72
lick dick

angela 4 president

modern art
it’s kept in a cup

i dreamed
a nameless junkie was after me
i was all
katy western wear
with lasso hands & cinnamon hair

u where
in el nasty club
a paper doll made simple-
no need for eyes

Sep 14, 2015

first batch of pics from washington DC


turning over
another sharp wing
only to read ,
‘is the dead swing happy?’

we sit
a bird’s tear

snap open
tricks of light

in love

with salt


u can’t see me now
my hips are failing
and the oracles see
tips of heaven being gathered
just for angels to


this is so mixed up
drunk dials
are the guts
on your lawn


doused and devoted in the nights of nod
river boy
u dropped your snuff bullet in the parking garage


our private joke is

'pray to poseidon from the glory couch’

soft chorus sounds

miles of highway

a party in bloom
you try to
drag out the first move
so that it is
permanently spooky

concrete in the periphery and then
these kids fire-escape someone



the whole feeling
an oil spill in the grid

benadryls us

i trace your smile ;
it’s like a constellation

Aug 19, 2015

" "

augmented reality:
all signs stuck to velcro & we’re listening to autopsy -
“dark like a subreddit” / all exits locked.
we call in transfusions. to the blood park.
wake up at a funeral.
your T-shirt says, GO ENTROPY!
blood vessels and stars leak into our car-jack video.
we steal light from alien trees, walk into vine/wine hour.
what the hell is a vine, anyway? the valve of a door?
radiation. the universe faking its own story.
reincarnation makes me tired. the bartender
is blowing up twitter with his cock tail science.
here’s to
short conversations @ high tables,
bruises identified on a bar stool, and
and seeing beneath the crowd.

Aug 18, 2015

“i’m dressed as victim chic, playing vision quest by myself in the dead arcade of the dead mall.”

waiting on u, with my heroin affliction. are we in a movie? brown dogs run
unleashed thru the theater. i have med checks in my pockets, i don’t know
what for. a resurrection failed. was i suppose to meet u here,
or at my apartment? i want to walk home but i can’t google it. i want to
go home and change into an angel so you can murder me with just
your mouth. like out in some field Cain is listening to no one. the girl that
lives in the apartment next to me, has two kittens named Risperdal & Ritalin.
our roof-top garden smells like panama and tonite is so temporary.
i dare u to sleep here and play quest in my mouth. let’s go out.

the beautiful streets
like mirrors.

Aug 13, 2015

"soon enough the sun will rise"

Dreaming in
the language of your
appearance & the lack of. I’m trying to forgive
and look a little convinced. You remind me again to write the
I do, and I want to join your club
so I walk with you while you try to drink
and swim.
Ah, the talons of summer, scratching everyone’s skin.
Ages & real names are making a come back. I always enter
what hasn’t happened yet.
Just look at them. Nothing fits anymore.
And those who are dead, grow. Is it easy to quit a job
and sunlight?
Is this broken-window talk?
There is a sad loneliness in hotels. Do U feel it too?
Here, I packed this Frankenstein tote with lots of moisturizer
& vitamin D.

“this poem has nothing to do with you, in 60 words.. more or less”

Embrace the darkness in which we roam. There isn’t a new church

In the woods;
Only ancient, garnet flickers. I looked. The deer, a mural on water. Dew-drops
In someone’s hair. Volumising the lift - we squeal! The moments sparkle & glow
Horror vacui in the night, all night. We pump & jump. Molecular memories.

Aug 9, 2015

"U don't know where u met me"

but it got u into ancient greek
everything facsimiles eventually and blurs the history of the valley, the freeway, the you, — messing around with death, using Gmail with god screens & savers

making birds speak marketplace &
Himalayan in the same accent.
Skip to content
ask me if i got it for satan ask me if
the daylight rn is a prayer i forgot to rough draft
to me u feel like a low grade burning
and u r probably getting sunburns w/clones and that witch that looks like a kind of 90s Woolf when she was the last sort of cool thing u remember happening.

nah. what really happened is i started writing something decent and i lost it because i am having a hard time with copy and paste on this new dellerina

so what’s Happening? another great scary growth in a new suburban house? I’m trying to see you but u are standing between two car headlights. Headlights. — machine light i now fall from
buildings are a rough mouth
alien designs
sit in your lungs
and what about the animal bites
i take arms against the 139 remix
america repeats
@midnight i turn into 0. 0. 08 GB

Jul 26, 2015

"we navigate into saturday nite, as victims line up to write the wrong poem"

i’m in reverse and you are backtracking

okay. tell it. i am listening

joan of arc logged into pretty

i have drugs and i want to make it with you

we were put in that war

hero slicing

violence in the only pay phone

sympathize with sharks stuffed full of plastics

i hit the glass and fly involuntarily toward that stairwell

i see you there

signaling storms

on ice

your biggest irrational fear

the gnostic dollar sign dangling over my dash

i’ve been an ocean sucked into a tornado

religion is me kissing fear

the base of your skull

flat printed-circuitry

"The Last Word On Attitude Of The Quiet",

the only place to buildings. We discover the alleys but learn to watch each baby step, fold light into the tightest places.Little Istanbul at the Gare de Lyon. In this weird pain, we rarely see

what resides, only feel like adding heft to the spill.
Of a need to recover? Need to recover. We meet at the end. Corpses of a moment. The toxic illuminated in our eyes and skin. Another world. No money. A thin, white, sugary girl, sparkling evocatively even on strawberry pastilles. No one wants to interview the terrorist poet; we fight aimlessly on, past ambulances cloudy with second hand smoke, past the unexpected hard drops, the pharmacies with their red crosses. Our solitude knows no name, just music. There is no more dome to dream under. We are out! Out, cutting poppy into a shortcut. Our feet left there. A sensory image: two irregular sonnets, slight matte daubs of past invasions, transgressions. I feel like you are Roman Catholic so we set a goal - the highest part of the city, Sacré Coeur. For the longest time the hills keep arriving but no mountain stops. Dervishes appear out of no where & try to sell us their ritual dances. Maybe we’ll leave. Float down a country road, where we can find a holy inbox everywhere.
Jul 20, 2015

Jul 14, 2015

"ashley paints all mermaids on fire"

a vinyl mini skirt
i know blood once had a reflection in its shine
it is the color out of space
shaped like someone else’s miserable

i can see outside my future
because i’m my own guiding light
my eyes
green installations
before this was born
i died
and we all pull out of the rain
the gold veranda
burning children
picking the sun


If you are marbles
i can’t imagine collecting husks
for the right lines

all because of a dream generator
a gap in the brain
hotel some hot velvet
look mom
no hands
just cheap ass fireworks set off by strangers

i notice things
out of the hospital
the shoot-touch of other body anythings
again and again i surge into this state
toy love bride of feelings
i hate that shit
the nothings the overconfident
are you burning hot dogs for the next 20 years
PM me


i suppose you are a good person
i’m on chemicals on a whole other web
a shark
i don’t think i could stand
smart phone bangs &

or i am


"while scrolling down your tumblr page my browser crashed and i had to fill out a crash report"

i couldn’t sleep so i got up to look at your offerings
so many eyes they put a hole in the wall
there is no substitute for a tray of syringes
nothing better than sleep walking from cloud to cloud
one leg left on the couch
the pills
blue skies
a coffin to trace
and cut out

sometimes i get in these morose moods
go to target practice and think
peter should be scared

this whole thing started (for me)
with that Instant Crush video
that detached
vocoder-assisted voice never left my head

Jul 2, 2015

“picture scape:”

wars of light-fall
socks too high
and night formica
in the counter-net

i pull
facing east
thirty thousand ropes to none
in a room once unknown
the walls
really anywhere
dart rays
an end
in anyone’s dream



june 14th 2015

“searching for fidel casserole”

drive!drive!drive! you scream while ripping open another gooey ziplock disaster
keep goin! straight!
listening to “kali” by your-absurd-foreskin & everything is on slim oz settings.
i open windows for something like enlightenment and you are label master competition loyal -total blunts – ssheeet meet BEDTIME! i hate being the end with peyote muff

somewhere, hell is delivering its first breath in prophet curls: ancient ITT guy meets certs sucking weirdo, and will slash me & my illegal routes with win across all numbers. now i am on wall st
watching a thick bartender do a bloody mary
and behind sun two; the Jesus luster of THE blind, a rock for yer dreams
and finally finding the toilet boxes! still paved with country cuties and magnum prostitutes tinted with Y2k blush, past the indie polish sausage stand don’t be a baskin head and pay the hansel!
i bump into Scott Weiland explaining smeared with linoleum teeth and vodka breath
in bare-feet, & somehow & some time later

i find the skyline car and u r still sleepin so i start driving all cross cloud lash and depressed into another world-run where dirty is eggplant and cherry is violet mercury punishing perverts with zapping zippers and finally
once again we’re cruising over the last beckoning clover median

may 9th 2015

Jun 22, 2015

am i weird to take pics of my stuff? nah. i wanted to record the progress of

my window boxes, because next summer i am going to plant a couple more, like 5 or 6. anyway, i turned the first two boxes around so now the hot pink flowers are facing the church parking lot and the purple ones are facing my balcony door:

this is the newest box - i planted 2 different types of "sedum" in it, because i am going to put it out on the railing in this building's unheated entryway/hallway this coming winter, and from what i gather, sedum can take the chill:
i turned up the color it looked blah

(i am listening to HTC's latest, beautiful, music, as i post..)

the ole house guard is now the balcony guard:



the old asparagus fern plus baby and mondo grass, which i have to give to someone to plant in their yard because i have had to repot it every minute - not a container plant

May 4, 2015

last post, gotta go now!

someone says your name

and your
sun-striped teeth make you approachable
like the window blinds on the porch
we see your eyes
on the tiny screen
and they are amazing
i am going to write this because
tab clouds cover star points
because we’re always distracted
like waves
that can never pod botanic

and even
each monstrous
has a beating heart
trying on
(at least once)
the snowy white
that could hold forever


my winter is a shadow
that will soon eclipse
the tiny origami birds
we fold together
and i will brave the weather from the corner of my ordinary life
wishing for a couple of downers
on my days off
remembering all the skin poems i wrote
suede sky ballads on the roof
for the already inflamed

if words could change
the physical
who would you be and where would i find you


"expired pop tarts and a dozen tamales"
morning chatter / brain knuckles /
i’m down with it / radio a.m. / egg sling / chasing you around the golden fridge / feeling this kitchen is a higher life / sunny stove / bloody 91 degrees / gleaming pots /
hooks in a song / a traditional blvd thru poem city / sunshine walls / fragments of xMas stuck in a book / bowls of sugar / flops / you’re so funny on the highest level / we should go to brownsville and start a fire / i’m cooking new things / shadowy and sexy / we’ll find your people / try not to worry / they are probably in a shelter / confused /
phones dead / time pushes morning into sad sparkle / camouflage / fiestaware and green eyes / unframed day poem 804 / pineapple growing on a windowsill / squirmer boy / canning truths / we lie to each other on the stoop / talk summer / getting heavy in the / hot garage / clutter / junk / in the left corner / a tin wreath / hangs /



a table of old witches
they’re just clutter

barren motions and
a scratched baby photo

time hack
sleep before
the sapphire burn
until goodbye
until the day can repair itself

used images
according to this
your life is empty
watch in silence
dull eyes
comment with
hands open
the blankness
yellow nails


'i can't find the ringing phone, i am lost in another fever'

wandering around
on bare feet
in a broken pool of ice
speak for me
fallen in snow slippery as oil
lonely love
i find the phone between couch pillows darkening
your face
i breathe wind through the branches in my chest
you’re sayin’ something ‘bout food
i need to shave my legs
pool boy start trembling in a time thicket
there are dinosaur monsters
bubble bitin’
spitting dew
through even more time
it hits my plexiglass
snowballs between the eyes
brilliantly stinging

once i smoked myself hollow


"i can’t wait till we are super gods"



all social media

just re-arrange face-hook and
blow up
heaven’s boring feather exhibition

we’ll burn all casual photos of Daedalus
in the old museum and make electric labyrinths
there won’t be any feeds & streams
spit and shit

all ghosts leave for the islands
as nuclear exoskeletons

we hitch rides with them
as Cotton & Candy


"The Bed Is The Car"

when you’re high as jonathan livingston
carving monstrous wholesome in the sand
thinking about all that fish

o, to slip out of bed
and step
into new skin
unpolluted & young

remember when it was easy


tunnel to the exit

how the dark
would eventually shed its scaly heels

remember when u were calm
& only used math
to turn love


then slip behind the wheel


"after opening the gates"

i unfold you
a faint line on the wall
a sky-room full of wrecks
our imagined teeth
shiny glass
dressed in the beauty of a bare forest
i kill you
clutching paper
then leave in the shape of a rosy river



surrounded by calenders
that impossible photo
of us laughing through winter
laughing thru court
spilling coffee
on an acreage of notes
thrilling foxes
the smell of being bound
by leather
the heavy in beautiful
the underneath of alone
a box full of sometimes

sadness on a gavel


i’m wearing a geometric dress and holding a pink paper cup
because i am trying to take myself back
into summer
back to the garden-party. back to
the taste
of: lime, salt, coke and smoke.

without your nails
crossing flesh bone
as an unarmed

no name


"here’s to looking at you in a tough magnetic way"

it is
we say together
all twang and


did u know
those glasses and that fur
give u sort of a pimp / noir vibe


natural born kisser on
tornado crystal

our poisoned eyes
spin in the dashboard lights

we dread
the blue
sluggish aftermath
of hitting the jackpot


we are stalling

a bells and whistle paradox

invisible wings adhered
i show no wear
in my street

this just in from the big guy in the sky:
the truth will shake shelves at the sun

sometimes i fake impossible falls

"my feet have been cold all day, will you make coffee"

i see nothing
cept an empty rental car
across the road
in the snowy dusk
in the portal
someone’s chicken answers to nimrod

& the monsters sit
in their long letter beds
glistening sleep

their eyebrows are stapled on
it makes me sick
to look at them
to move past the snoring tide

i follow the pillow line
to their empty

still wet
from the ritual
cardiovascular curl
pulsing tiny things
only borrowed in white

found ghosts running thru glass

sleep is in us
in all of us
the giant of looking
the revlon of space


"chill, in the snow"

almost everything we’ve done
we’ve forgotten
angels jogging backwards
almond hair
simple lists
fleshy trix
moving towards the rocking-horse wilt
a skull face
dies different
at the keyboard
and the body
acrobatic dust
we take turns
being lions
being boxy-baby
rolling in the garden
spitting roses at the trees
we need a bail out
a long kiss
the tip as hot
the wound
a snowflake
the arrow
freeing the fakes
so we don’t growl



thru a melting space
that’s how your well-worn


that’s how
naked towers
smashing petals and light
bodies lay strewn
about main street
take gander
each stroller
grassy wisps
squatter cries
inside leaves
day apples

i can’t do the math
it is still
terribly twisted

and from this moment on
i shall no longer stumble
just maybe do a slow fade
like a streetlight bruise

like the nothing
that cuts the tongue faster than
a blaring
fucking in the open dark



just tear the photo up
video night


i can’t watch your star snuffling
the way you flame fences
with your vacant hands
i’d rather strip a playful burn
than fan a broken wrist


i guess you just
eradicated eden

a flamingo blaring
off limits

in colour

i sit alone
on my throne
good goddess of the shaft
ice of thorns
glisten in my hair
a pine scent
in a new winter
salty tear of mortality
the night chants
and little bird souls
close & lock
the royal gate of blood & bone

"now wht?”

so now wht
will our graves
deep in a grove
touch the same stone
or the worn path to the marketplace
will an ancient one
stretch these beds like the starry spines of a galaxy
the bright curve of our leaving
a commotion of reaching
will it stain a tiny emptiness
in an even tinier mud-walled hut
will the pine we sleep in
be forever pining in the ground
a sacred symmetry of how-do-you-do
only slightly rearranged
perhaps a cool lining-clasp is
touching & robotic
beetles have gathered
to hollow out rivers of bone


then in another spot
a sleepy trickle
the smothering of a box
a strand of sand
the drowning mouth
another ancient one
leaning against a rented fence
whispering the completeness of a playground
or a ceiling
over lovers
the endless shores of a small square
mountains of now
& in the peripheral
a common housefly


this is the future
the pigment-on-plaster blend
a guy standing in the street
eating a bag of potato chips
his face partially hidden
by a cherry-wood beard
no one knows it’s

yah! test drive! by Tasha Klein


redlight 02 (feat.

hornet & shuga twigz)

light as starflight

grown dark


absence is:

a spiral tag

sky seats

& ventricular windows


fake sun-



shake up the ice

run holes

highway sparks

step on the gas

smoke the up
thru glass

vowel burns
kiss to imagine
tart face
rubble grass
close to cut
circle ties
lipstick collar
plum treacherous

“a kind of space patchwork”

u were in my dream this morning
in avalanche-speak
we slid down hills
or just froze into

a rigid
two shadowed

black sky &
a beautiful
fog tree

a garlic crop glowed orange
that orchard is a joke
u said
so we pretend-swam
over it

in a restaurant with
glowing walls
we read the news
another wasted army
tears blossomed in me
i let the slanted sadness drop
how long will we be trapped in work city
i sobbed
another couple stared
their mouths
sere swards of coarse bits
a waitress appeared
she took down our order
with a cattail


“a poem about missing u”

habit to recognition
come in please
electrically serially
talk louder
lipstick it
to me

i dreamed you cut me out
of your selfie
and i died
i dreamed
lego purses
pentheus by-blocks
how the sky misses the worse


the giant power of imagination

we were kids in a blurry state

then we were older


drinking ensure out of breakfast cups
pouring time
onto deserts

our tattoos reflecting the stars


“divine heartbeat”

essentially my want is a beautiful

i see you
buy and kill

i’m glad
may the adjuster stay red

but my room is still blue
a complicated blue
in a terrible world

so give me the night
it’s just clothing

“too tired to perk-up & act lucky”

to the clicking

ice cubes
& cross out
round one
of the elixir
of me
this foolish broom head
wanted to experience something
in rainbow dew
trick you in stockings
smoke the locks of the bared
lurk in the bark of the moon
play status
wear the cape made in china
around little dark corners


“watch the comments fall..”

heavy like dinosaurs on an internet testament
stories of yourself have bodies
tweet and see
horrible deleted people
crash on myth interstates
laughing and driving is not a crime

flowers explode after the screenshot

let’s try to remember the beauty of ghosts:
Isnt & Wasnt


the dreaded love poem
the other day but i’ve been working so much i don’t have time to post it

and now i am going to bed

did u hear i’m moving up
to sterling
suite 21
with a doorbell
full of spider kisses
and resin in the speakers

i’ll be out
in my
hollow face
wild eyes
waving to the cars going by

looking for you
while my feet
tread water
a frightened
moving sky

i’ll be lusting for loose sleep
my dreams netting out
to a fathom ocean
letting words splash around
like turtledove milk

i did windowboxes this yr and more stuff to edit

“This Started Out As A Jesus Pome”

there are so many astonished

angel wings

o studded child
leaching  swings
dreamy white
throwing explosive tucks
at the untucked

moon light

you will halo your sun-mousse

wear a lizard’s fragile skitter
like legs  just to

smuggle graves

down streets of litter


and u were dressed like a parking circulator

< to park the dead? the s-matrix? >

putting up time in the garage

< putting out? >

my body is viral. remember?

< lol. a secret hot cough.
 my sultry horizon >

pulsing surveillance. mouth & cocoon.

< guilt alley >

just marketing the river’s lips

< compasses.  rolling.   bail. >

blooming blind downloads

< do u like talking in code? >

stapled dizzy

< armored important. *smile* >

sailing neon  kisses 2u


he not gonna wear a big ole ghillie tie just gonna e Jack U late
in his own slip and slide

hey team
your boy is live feed
on his way to being a real big deal
he say he will buy the whole
 crystal choir
& bag the bitches that tire
because they just won’t retire

fire in the dash
ash on the cash
kreepn in they butt
ham-around sound
b serious
is your knife a phallic symbol
tell the truth as i
core aluminum
and we ridn in your latest
4 ton steal packn snow missile
i’m next to u in nothing but noho jewelery
what ice-snap fash-trash

~~~  sigh ~~~
i’m gonna change my nom de plume, to yung paris


"aww, I have to go now  : ( “
after your eyes close
i watch lights stream across your face

like a silent waterfall
of something right
from a motel 6
not mere Kusama polka-dots

we stuck our hearts in tubes
and locked them in the trunk
you were kinda drunk and said

the skies are chokin’
another overdosed ocean


"work on later"
love turmoil &
rampant trolling
in the nike outlet

the camera clicks
you have on
the auto correct


& smile one of your
  innumerable ivory intensities

we’re somewhere on the border of planet LA
forgotten street people
forever jammed
in the country’s spyware
flame encrypted
sad flapping of wings

you tell me that i have a look:
very dreams

we eat at a
chinese restaurant
paper streamers
darkly dangle over our table and

a cracked
koi tank 


“hot jungian paladiner”
temporarily holed up in the foreboding castle
far above the subject/s &
behind the wing-dings of nothing
i hate those in-between azalea girls
with their
they make me feel old


imma play Kid Charlemagne

 look for poems to cut

see lights in the fire


my life - a
burning pile of paper



one potato

gonna make coffee and
be mithraic and things

test - i think i figuredout what is wrong with this page, i turned off the translation feature and i think it is a little better

anyway. . gonna post a bunch of stuff to work on sometime soon i hope. and i have pics! i finally got some living room furniture! FREE! and i am excited! 
pic one


thru the glitch

we see you moving like a panther
personality 1
plus 3
across the parallel

to soul-kiss everything contra
to wake up another amerika
your mouth
the advantage
of pressed  juicery
never flat line subscriptions
so important like no bleach in the sway
& the feed for 7 - 11
so not new
so you fly
in the darkness
a pop-up for the pull-off
your yes-mates draw blue
hearts on a window
your t-shirt says
eat fruit - au naturel

in the courtyard: a splash of pavonazzo

tired of the fountain’s gushing mouth

a bird who speaks only ghost

body and cement

in some rhinestone narrative

a sun flies through darkness


we get
and are okay with it

the short-handed distance

of our shared alley physics
move our feet like fast clouds

it irritates me
the realization of

you can’t erase or blow up
what was never there

if i could paint i would paint the joke in peacock colors
on the side of a quail


a fleck in the crumble
but no cookie was found


in the mermaid’s mouth

a laughing leash

> ready rain is the behemoth of our time <

discourse masks your dark inflection

you really never talk
you just hand me weird lines


drafts are sometimes my sanctuary
to be ripped and broken

> another classic

cauldron “I” poem <

just finished the night with more dark space
crashed another small diagram
listening for day


hurry up it's getting scary in here
strutting thru predawn
the landscape rolling with rot shock
i am wearing my pale satin pinion rack
my roses all over you
my lovely retune
my roses all over you
up along the skies
the never scores of beyond
let’s piano that smile
dye fossils irreparable
we pass the language rivers
we pass little miss grey
even her awkward is divine
waking our heart with a drop
waking in the stream of leaping fish
the sheared tones of children
needling bliss

your dabs fill my cracks

maybe we’ll dine @ The Rain Dog
wear cloaks
sit under the
savior tree
our laughter
even if just for a while
the white rush of vodka

>not sure what flavor is trending right now<


all your wishes swallow air


in the midnight
the depths are best
for breaking through this

i used to write a lot about being drunk
and getting laid
now i just wear glow-in-the-dark
heels and swivel over the shipwrecked
in due time
i’ll see you
smoking your e-cig
trying to hold
another network of hip-rip
wavy on the surface
in their coats


i’m not a bird
& i hate face-hook
i’m stuck in clono-pin
sky-lining wishes
and on spotify they say there is a hot dog you can trust
tragedy eve to the sleeper:
you seem like you are going thru some sort of mid-life crisis

here, have an email bracelet

are you drinking your meme
because the jokes on you

yep. a mammoth morning - that’s my style

and you keep your killing regime in the relish

what do you promise those little girls

txt balloons?