screaming at low volumes
How soft your voice, night. how shrill your cries in silence do echo around the emeralds my mother gave me to see through. melancholy sloth cradles me in your unholy arms, dark with nothing for me, dark with coal on my hands. it has been said, “Give me liberty or Give me death”, though I … Read moreOde To The Night
And I guess that I just don’t know. But I think that I do. So what happened to tomorrow?? Was there ever an agreement on the future? What was it I wanted for this tomorrow From yesterday’s dreams and nightmares? We’re all talking about the same thing – It just feels different in your left … Read morewhat did you say?
The rain comes and goes. The days, too. I wonder at the trees, The ornate wild flowers … how have they never lost hope? It is forever lost and found … Much like forgiveness: Train rides to the edge of the earth Return on the Great Ocean Liners. All the while we’ve never gotten out … Read moreNothing
I want it all, and why shouldn’t i? it is so sublime, only the insane would refuse. I want you! on a sunday afternoon, lazy in sunbeams while desert dunes whip. And when I go, I want you, bittersweet in empty sheets your voice still pure in my mind. We’ll sing on bridges to worlds … Read moreI want
her voice is ghostly, breathy and light: No one has ever pronounced the “H” in Thank You before. And the softness, the gentleness: were it the voice of an inquisitor one might be inclined to tell life stories. The conversation is not important; they rarely are – but the kindness conveyed in her tone betrays … Read morethe H in thank you
i wish you would tell me beautiful things. and you do. More beautiful than I can conceive. and still I am sour and dour and unremarkable. i would tell you of the disarray, the fear of losing it all if you wouldn’t pin it so squarely, so rightly upon my breast. It is what soldiers … Read moreand we never fought
i said that the Indians had their culture stolen, and then thrown away by the thieves. She was lighting a cigarette. she said she thought i had the wrong Idea. there had been several bottles of wine, and several joints. There had even been tequila. i leaned back and put my feet on the table. … Read morethings easier than
they said william blake died of a broken heart; they say a lot of things in seedy coves and bars made for pirates’ whores. they don’t even know blake, they don’t know wordsworth, they don’t know to the aching pit of a lost soul, they don’t know fucking walt whitman. this kind of thing, this … Read moreknowing someone or somewhere
Go & Fuck yourself … take all your love and shove it down my throat, then eat my liver. { everything is synthesized } { there was never anything } and still, still!, 40 Million Butterflies are stolen by 40 thieves. Meat cleaver hands on ham hock arms silently begrudge the company … I make … Read moreschlachthof
do you see the hunger for your flesh? do you feel the desire that radiates from my being? why do we play such games? it, too often, feels like dogs rolling over, if there is a treat involved.