screaming at low volumes
jgtaylor How small we were when the heavens saw us first; clamoring for love, gripping with tiny fists onto that last vestige of knowing. And now, smaller still, we cry to the emptiness that has stolen the contents of our once noble hearts: “Give back that purpose that we knew when we were small!” In our … Read morehow small we were
Goddamn these legs; distracting earthquakes from their solemn duty.
The tourists take pictures. The tourists are never loved. funny faces, strange places, authentic is pathetic Middle class rebellion is sad, beaten donkeys.
My heart is infinite and when you go, you will have as much of it as you might ever enjoy. Though I will miss you, I will have known you from infinite travels across the maps of the heart. When I go, I will follow your exquisite cartography of human decency: each fine line to … Read moreInfinite Heart
the nooncooks appetitesaway,cold nightsturnlong days.how we forgetwhat was saidand happy linesare misread,until it is biterand disillusioned:admitted confusion.wicked tonguesthat let nothing freepin wicked desiresto pine trees,why can’t we just saywe only want to fuck,when the affectionsits down, stuck?these foolish symbolsmade from sounds,interpreted:the teeth of hounds,a biteor a bark.let it be dark,interpretation is an artthat revolvesoutside of … Read moreHeat Exhaustion
What shall become of the empty seconds of waiting? Those moments your name sits foolishly on my lips, when forests turn to desert, and spring finds the Tundra waiting for the moment to spill secrets into eternity, what shall become? How shall we see in the hours between the fantasies? Those moments the visions dance … Read morein between them
she wore panties that pretended disinterest, while i just pretended disinterest. we sat across from each other as I undressed her: your shoes, please, if you will. and now socks, tiny as they are. the pants, the shirt, the bra; but I couldn’t take the panties off. My imagination was not built for such delicate … Read morePretending Disinterest
The innocence of life is stained grey it’s painted over with putrid green Dark … from 3rd grade in wooden chairs where your back hurts hurts bad, and you’re kind of hungry there when the sun comes up to display just how little has changed you can see boys become tyrants but those tyrants who’ve … Read morelittle tyrants
I’ll probably never be just the thing you need as has been told to me on numerous occasions. Two joints of escape and a white collar rape make a practical day in a life of abrasions L’enfant Plaza @ Six is an unhealthy mix of the raped needing a fix of love’s persuasions
The wretched filth of loneliness legs elongated into desire Every toe is perfectly painted, Monet, Picasso, so blue in pink the defenses so trifling Just don’t speak Please, don’t open your mouth Rhinestone hearts, plastic souls, A tongue so foul fermented in comparisons.