i'm never anywhere and i never feel somewhere, don't you know?
i sleep with the blanket half drawn over my head so that the spider priests cannot whisper their hymns into the sanctuary of my ears. under the lace and cloth which shrouds my bed like a fabric womb, i dream of houses filled with scattered remains of clothes and books, where the screams of banshee spirits keep me from the outside world. if i were to leave this place through rebirth — my long ears…
a father's approval is unattainable. it's a symptom of my catholic upbringing to believe that suffering is a meaningful act. yelling, screaming, loudness, is a sign of weakness, powerlessness, or loss of control in the being from which the sound originated.
what were your last thoughts as your friend's car went careening into a plane tree? did you think of your unfinished novel, most likely cradled within your bag, presumably as safe as you thought you were on this trip home? who last crossed your mind, if anyone? were you gone in an instant, immediately released from your body and this life? did the survivors try to help you, did they move you at…
existence without purpose, what's the point? what did humans live for before money to motivate them into obtaining desires? was it the capability of desire, or an innate survival instinct? why is there a built in self preservation? what's the point of that and surviving, if there is nothing to survive for - what reason is there to innately need to live? every living being has it, regardless of…
brain dripping, now i'm tripping on a stupid acid vision when i wish i'm with you all consumed with acid vision sick of these indescribably holy feelings i couldn't possibly convey to another human soul, like i want to take the emotion from me and place it inside of them, the only way they'd understand. won't someone deliver me from this? abstract, godlike (godly) ideations desire to consume,…
there has been nothing of human design which has brought me to my knees with tears the way nature and animals have. no structure or ____, only creative human pursuits created through love, and not the greed for money. the poetry of baudelaire, songs written.... and still, the vast ceilings of st paul's cathedral, built for the worship of something so beloved, cannot compare to the holiness of an…
a visual poem