Monday, October 26, 2009


Most definitely racking up caloric deficit,
Overdrawing on my body's credit,
No time, no god damn time to catch up,
My appetite fled with the season,
Fled with the season
Fled with the season

Sunday, October 18, 2009

But when can I?

The things I'm made of now, like
a draw towards the aesthetic, a
tugging for something real yet vague and
it has my name written on it, it was
in my dna, my blood
22 years now it's been waiting but I
haven't manifested its

I haven't done it, I haven't

I have to wait.
I can't die yet.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Nearly Constantly Misguided or A Flawed Perspective

Halting the ark,
when you fuse my sadness with lips,
touch hands with fingertips
and pray that mother don't succumb

Halting the ark, the arched back
upon my mattress sends shivers through my spine
and I, I, fuck with dispassion and furious strength
all at once

Halting the ark because I'm drunk and I need to vomit,
the world spins against itself, orbitally clockwise
while the liquor spins counter-
this truth is cruel

Where are you tonight?
Why have these four years been so wrong?
Because I am not pathetic I've been strong.

But strength misguided faults everything.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

For Myself

As if the Ocean chewed the stone to make the cliff,
and battered everything and everything,
we came to the water's edge
to find our own truth within the romantic.

It turns out that they told no lies,
and all I know is
they told no lies.

Saturday, October 3, 2009


I like a heavy scotch glass
rum, coke
the absent stillness marrying frantic silence
and wrapped in a blanket of foam liquor insulation

Real emotions actually rise for once
but bloom too early, never reach the surface

I'm indescribably grey again

2010 Version 2.1

I have to tell you something.

I'm sorry.
Because I was masturbating while you were pouring your heart out to me last night
on MSN.

I'm sorry,
that this computer screen in front of me is a fogged window that I control,
that I use to keep you at a distance.

I'm sorry, that you only see what I want you to.
Profile: polished.
Stats: carefully biased.
Likes: tailored to help me
fit in.

This mask is powered by Google.
This multi coloured cloak was designed on Facebook.
My soul is a One and a mother-FUCK load of Zeros
stored on a server somewhere in California.

I'm [not] sorry.

Friday, October 2, 2009


When I couldn't stop the water from falling from my hands
and I couldn't keep the carpet dry
I had no place to sleep, I had no place to sleep

The cigarettes burned themselves to peaceful endings
my lungs were thankful but my lips pleaded
My goldfish watched