New York City |
As these buildings scratch the skyAnd I see tine sparks of ice through the hotel windowA week as a machine, A week as a machine,A machine
My dreams enclosed in this leather briefcaseHanged by this tie...
Posted by on Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:40:00 GMT |
These hands are flying doves. |
As if I were hanging from my knees, tied to the whitest clouds.So dense and suffocating, penetrating my lungs and freezing my body, slowly.- Revenge, said the puritan.I couldn't see her, or feel her, ...
Posted by on Sun, 21 Sep 2008 05:58:00 GMT |
When will you be my mirror? |
It's not how her pale skin reflects the sun of an autumn's auroraOr the touch of her hands so heavy over mine.It's just how these roots and mud attach me to the sinking soilwrapping around my weak and...
Posted by on Sat, 24 May 2008 06:54:00 GMT |
I swallow my hands. |
I'm tired of breathing.Time is passing by too fast.Everything is changing too fast.With all those changes I have to be a whole new person and I don't even know who I am anymore.I feel like i can barel...
Posted by on Sun, 30 Sep 2007 11:56:00 GMT |
Oh My, Seahorses. |
what do I see from here?god, please wear my skin.if you created humans to buildwhy do we all destroyif you thought us how to flywe will teach you how to love.just to write on my armsapostolic verses a...
Posted by on Sat, 28 Jul 2007 02:59:00 GMT |
On this bridge made of sand |
On this bridge made of sand...I had this dream the other dayAnd it was not like most of my dreams where I am falling or dying inmany different ways.I dreamed of a little girl with eyes asbright as the...
Posted by on Tue, 19 Jun 2007 07:29:00 GMT |
Like Flesh to Vultures. |
Like Flesh to Vultures.And I, once again,standing on shattered glass.Dark room - leaking water.Noises.My head is just empty of thoughts as i startle.Hands to chest, trying to reach my heart to pull it...
Posted by on Tue, 19 Jun 2007 05:36:00 GMT |
