You're gonna ruin that kid, aren't you? This world…
This world has had enough of antiheroes;
The impermanence of the handsome devil in the puffer jacket…
My sweet enterprising olivine
Trying on bucket hats, the full effect that is mafic in color,
And automatic condescending li'l lucky tracks
Blaze of the gore and found, and sound the all-a-li'l opposey in nurture,
Little pics of wired hope piggybacking like the world hazied according to Monet,
Daycare for the doily-like humanoids ticking amethystic and antihistamines for my selenite,
But the energy is that of the salmonella sw ...Read more
"Do you believe in souls?"
"Then, why do you write so much about it?"
"The same way I drink up on horoscopes, and Greek tragedies, and sugar pills. I like just like my Mythologies."
Souls on stasis– changes on a regular basis.
I like the inevitable. I enjoy the craziest of theories.
How do you keep up? Keep up as an atheist?
There must be something out there,
Unless you're being drowned, you loud escapist.
Taker, Deceiver, Killer of Dream-writ Time,
I see petals and count your faces
Do they see beauty in it which I cannot.
A dorked dorm room daze, yank ...Read more
A stray enters the manor. Everything here was architected, down to the very Inch,
Grey but never stingy, flimsy but never had a carrot. The utopia goes underground
By one unwanted fly. (Every Inch has a name. Every fly, flounces and frills.)
Tap, tap, tap! The blast doors come a-banging.
Escalating devotions to the self-kickers and perusal of lumbar sentinels,
Brawling, gabbing like a nerve, a mutton on the relocated pier, skin-piercing seltzer;
Grey utopia's most humiliating–
You did make me happy but it was all deceit. Longer were the days spent in misery,
Lengthier, the counting o ...Read more
A stray enters the manor. Fifty to five-hundred thousand volts delivered through a non-caress.
I will leave the unimportant details out as I affirm my own. I will leave the manor to the test.
The legate against the soft quarantine, the legate finding new ways of letting me down;
Plodding and plotting from Small New Zealand; plummeting through
Cookouts, the unchecked tarmac, numismatics, schools, dander vestments, scarcity of the soulless–
I tell you: Emotional unavailability is so three decades ago. It's the Era of Vulnerability now, young hero.
Let it fill in or you're letting it be o ...Read more