Carrots and Such

I am wont To forget the pattern: That those residing in my fridge, Cooling and crisping as they do, Will only see the bright of life, As death comes closer.

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A March to Stop.

i will i will write i will write i will right left right left right left right i will prick the pin against the skin and bring the ink to surface i will draw it long against the teeth and send a message type O positive something you will not forget the dirty little Richards … Continue reading A March to Stop.

Cataloged

"What's on your mind, _________?" "What's happening?" something needs to be cataloged every minute, Taken into account, the importance of a moment as it passes through some lens of organic matter. We capture the best parts ((what we see as the best parts) and what do we do?) and we turn it, paint it, color … Continue reading Cataloged

Ice

It's stretched thin, like how I imagine water feels when it is frozen too quickly; as a whole, just a cube of cold matter, slightly larger than it was, something perfect for hot, Early September in the South West, on closer inspection, this water is screaming from expansion, swollen beyond recognition by fellow molecules. but … Continue reading Ice

Four Minutes and a Fist Full of Water

I used to count the seconds between the time that the old dry feel hit my lips and the time that my brain felt old and familiar again cracked as an Idaho summer. I would sit on the couch with the music on Chopin maybe, I do like him, He's soothing and full of a … Continue reading Four Minutes and a Fist Full of Water

Orbit

We're floating through it all, you know? by "it all" I guess I mean some ¬†scattered particles here and there We're just a larger bit of condensed-ness falling asifthereweresomething thatcouldpushusapart otherthanourownselfishness we think of our invulnerability launching fire to the heavens crushing great comets preparing to bleed them dry knowing that it would only come … Continue reading Orbit

Apathy

It is done finished steps have been taken the signatures are signed with pens of hollow souls rolled up dollar bills and one cracked mirror two drops of blood, stretching to reach one another Adam and God sitting on a reflective Sistine Chapel fifteen minutes, sore, broken, dry, wiping away, nothing there, nothing there, nothing, … Continue reading Apathy

Twenty-Three (or “Twenty-One” Revisited)

Twenty-three. Twenty-two. He's the age of shocking discoveries. Pushing himself to limits that set him back into loops of ecstasy and months of couch ridden recoveries. Drowning himself in lavender and tea tree oil, he meditates his brain into a submissive pulp and the world smiles back by slowly and softly responding to every fifth … Continue reading Twenty-Three (or “Twenty-One” Revisited)