11/4/08

Lost my grip. Now I’m floating aimless in an ocean of skin that’s faltering. Too rocky an endeavor to not affect my withering bones, the way the ice storm froze your water colder than I could believe. This atlas is old and these islands are mapped incorrectly. I found myself in the uncharted latitudes and longitudes’ meeting place and stranded off the coast of anything that should mean anything to me. I carved this grid into the skin between my teeth so I could come back and drown myself when I get tired of losing sleep.

This IS A Love Song

Fuck this fucking planet, fuck the fucking world. I’m tired of being great, its getting fucking old. Darkness screams my name and begs me to stay asleep. I grip my jaw so fucking tight I crack my fucking teeth. I want to punch a hole through the entire fucking world. I want to fight a speeding bus and end up in fucking hell. I want to blow your fucking head off with a shotgun through my brain. I want to fucking kill myself when I just see your face. FUCK.

9/19/08

Make your millions, flattened city, cover your culture. Stretched your skin too thin, you crushed your beauty under the weight of golden arms. Now this is a worthless ship sailing on the naked tides of an empty ocean. I can see the snakes from up high slithering through your grid work. Congratulations lovely, you’ve killed one thing I adored, but I’ll decorate this city with the names of what you lost.

9/17/08

Crying on my doorstep, filthy with instigation. Weave your web someplace else, little spider. I need some time to grieve. Wishing without hoping because I know your day will come. Sorrow spread so fucking thin that my lips can’t feel it rushing down. Brick-faced indignation, chest-piercing stares. We settled for so little but you cried until you got what was theirs. Make molehills out of thin-air, and mountain-size your world. I’ve got shoulders fit for weighted means, but nothing like your words. Dusty resolutions made clean with little effort became the revolution you yearned to cling to. Forget your own four seasons and make weather all yours. We can live in a sea of regrets as long as the water’s warm.

9/16/08 #2

Meander somewhere between distance and dissonance. Scar the tissue of the wasted words. Scatter smiles. Place the fault on the shoulders of reason. Make an effort to scour it clean. Waste these letters on burning paper. Write your name on all the ashes. This is the following message. The recorded voice right after the siren. This is worse than living. This is the feeling of waiting in the wings.

9/16/08

This world is folding over. You looked but you leapt anyway. How does it feel falling? How does it feel falling toward yourself? Repetitions of repetitions. Scratch your way out of the mud. You can feel your lungs getting smaller. You can feel yourself giving up. Moving like slow-motion, gears grinding you to dust. You swear you found the answer to everything. You scream that you’re not lost. I watch you splinter. I watch your lips shake. I can see the way the ocean swallows things that it’s never even seen.

8/19/08

My eyes perceive nothing but black skies outside these dusty walls. They crave the sun, but little do they know...its out there waiting. Its out there waiting to attack and bounce off them blinding. Send me away, tell me “Oh, boy, don’t you dare come back.” Well, I won’t. No, but not because you said those words to me. No, I won’t be back, but not because you told me anything. My eyes can’t see anything but black skies past your shining face. They know me. They know how I’m going to change. Yeah, they see me. They see walking away like I won’t come back, but I will be. Little do they know...