Being untrue to yourself is one great fucking injustice. |
What is wrong with me? College has been watering me down for only three months, and here I am wearing socially acceptable blue jeans so that I can avoid being stared at in class. FUCK THAT! Why should...
Posted by on Tue, 09 Dec 2008 08:53:00 GMT |
Those papers in my notebook.... |
I'll peel my fingerskin off.After work of course.There are too many cream sauce reductionsswirling in their pansto walk around smudging bloody ovals on everything. *I am remembe...
Posted by on Fri, 10 Oct 2008 17:23:00 GMT |
Under the Mattress |
It's a cricket night and cool enough to hear the temperature chirped. Though I'm not clear on exactly how that works. Nostalgia almost always arises after the sun has melted itself away, leaving only ...
Posted by on Tue, 30 Sep 2008 19:52:00 GMT |
do wop. |
I feel like a walking corpse, rubbing my eyes in wonder. Am I dead or is this a dream? Can cats see me and where is my grandmother? Velvet lined caskets are not my style. Write this down : When I die ...
Posted by on Fri, 25 Jul 2008 09:40:00 GMT |
Drunk poetry. |
Who can I confide in when I've no confidants?....and nothing to me is confidential.
Not a thin belly in sight and all fat fingertips are seen smudging glasses andpressing mazelike thumbprints and dent...
Posted by on Thu, 28 Feb 2008 16:27:00 GMT |
Now here / nowhere |
Ah well, here I am in goat hell wisconsin. No....not hell : purgatory. Half-way between starting my life in responsibility with no traveling, less drinking, and no more sneaking in the drugs. Downtown...
Posted by on Fri, 13 Jul 2007 13:33:00 GMT |
TOP FRIENDS!!! |
Yeah..... you know.... myspace doesn't matter. Really, though. I'm serious.
Posted by on Sat, 14 Apr 2007 17:40:00 GMT |
Cat Stevens |
Ride on the peace train. Cat Stevens is such a dirty hippy. But what a cute little song, with a video of pictures of trains. Not videos of trains.........no.....its a video....of pictures.......of tra...
Posted by on Sat, 17 Mar 2007 15:40:00 GMT |
crap poop i hate myself |
Thinking in 2 a.m. television tones, the blue light and haze of unattended cigarettes resting in ashtrays. The accumulated pasts and nervous stomachs of the sleepless. Doing our dance with red eyes an...
Posted by on Sat, 17 Mar 2007 01:29:00 GMT |
Zach |
Insomnia, this time without the alcoholism. You once said I could be a Bukowski, drinking into the night, eye-ing the backs of my hands. Not blinking: cursing those fogged mental blocks. &nb...
Posted by on Wed, 14 Mar 2007 03:16:00 GMT |
