April 2013
1 post
4 tags
In the Interest of Curb Stomping my Psyche
[[MORE]] I can get furious with midnight
when it taunts me and drips ink in my eyes
whispering as it strokes my veins with the
tips of its fingers, whispering in my ear that
it does not want to be my friend.
In celebration of its tyranny
it throws itself a parade, leading
and exodus of friends I never had.
It will leave me and I will
scream and tear my hear out in
Grecian mourning...
December 2012
2 posts
4 tags
Nuclear
My college degree will one day
earn me all the skills required to build an
atomic bomb.
I will use blueprints and biology and a
deep understanding of physics and physicality
to build an explosive
and I will fill it with words
news stories
It will contain all the things you’ve done.
I can fill a mushroom cloud with lost conversations
because I recorded the things you...
5 tags
Linesnake
My fingers keep my brain in a lockbox
They are tiny worm corpses,
reanimated by fervor and the tar
that leaks from my temple.
They have pads made of lines
that punch tiny word bruises onto
glowing documents, that say
click/saveas/thisisnothingimportant.doc
lines carved from your ancestors, with
histories that they’ll remember when I’ve forgotten,
lines that remember...
October 2012
1 post
6 tags
In progress, but look you guys, I'm writing again
I want to live in red brick buildings that swell and simmer like bread ovens in the summer, but as fall passes, the red turns maroon, darker, a little bloodier. The buildings grow cold and intimidating. They’re the hulking body of every middle school bully, shrugging their shoulders with hands in their pockets, casting a shadow over the street and passively judging you with a sneer of an...
July 2012
2 posts
7 tags
[untitled, or, I spend too much time on the...
Rush hour train traffic was something that Newt did his best to avoid, but he found no other alternative after making the unpleasant discover at 6:30 that morning that his right front tire had popped and he had no way of mending it. It was raining, and he only remembered the umbrella in his briefcase after walking the five blocks to the train station. Newt decided today was one of “those days” and...
17 tags
Please charge "world change" to credit.
I realize I’ve lost my empathy
As I march past the same man who sits on a
Milk crate outside of Dunkin Donuts
Drumming militantly with his plastic cup.
He’s been smiling at me for six weeks and telling me,
“good morning” “have a good weekend” “happy fourth” “have a nice day”
and I can smile back from behind
mirrored glasses.
I just say “g’morning”
With one earbud in.
He can’t see my eyes
but he...
June 2012
1 post
April 2012
1 post
6 tags
Fatale
Everyone knows that you’re just
waiting for your film noir moment,
where shadows are richer than the pale of her cheekbones
and the dark glossiness of his hair
You hate to admit it, but you know
a rich shadow spends more than
your waiting will ever earn.
The currency of shadows is breath and
an inhale that’s sharp enough to cut diamonds.
Your inhale isn’t sharp...
January 2012
4 posts
2 tags
[part of my nightmare/lucid dream. It's actually...
I run through the halls of a hospital trying to find a bathroom but I can’ see one anywhere and I am barefoot and people keep looking at me and asking what I am doing there, but I keep running. I stop when I pass a very old couple, and it looks like the old man is listening to music. I ask him, pretty loudly, if he knows where the bathroom is, and he just smiles blandly. I ask again, louder,...
7 tags
Darling Avocado.
Soft and fragile and
you tap down expertly with a
butter knife until
you’ve crushed it and the span of
green is lumpy and bruised and maybe
a little bit self concious?
It used to revel in its solidity before
you hacked away its skin and
tore out its heart
and it sat and waited for someone to
consume the remainder of its body
but even it didn’t see much point in
...
5 tags
Sometimes,
the universe is so fucking disturbing
when it’s gray too many days in a row.
Or when there is not nearly enough caffeine
to wake me up for a 9am lecture, with all those
revolutionary thoughts that my adolescent
sponge of a brain soaks up and
immediately sorts into that mountain called
Things I Will Care About Later, Probably Never.
These are the days when I...
You sort through me
faster than you
smoke those cigarettes.
You’re poison but
fuck
you taste sweet.
December 2011
1 post
Dear universe,
I apologize for the lack of activity here. I actually have been writing quite a bit, but it’s all terrible, angsty, uninteresting and quite personal, so in order to avoid bothering you all with my incredibly shallow problems and the fact that sometimes, I’m quite a head case, I am going to use this vacation to mentally detox and try to write something that doesn’t sound like a...
November 2011
8 posts
7 tags
Gibbet Fridays [about my friends from home]
We walk in like we own the place
and our noses are dripping and we giggle and
cling onto each other like
flames, and that’s what we are.
The way the ice can shoot up through my soles
and crawl up the back of my legs is satisfying,
just like the way we keep glancing over our
shoulders to remind ourselves that
this journey is illegal.
We keep looking around for anyone who
can see...
October 2011
1 post
11 tags
Occupy [inspired by Occupy Wall Street and...
There are 99 drops of sweat
oozing through the cracks in a roof
from 99 men, maybe more, but
ot doesn’t matter much.
They’ve been up there a while,
trapped in a time loop.
I’ve seen them patching the same holes
on that same roof,
pounding the same rhythm
with the same hammer and nails.
They’re just older now.
If Dre heard their beats,
he would have put...
September 2011
12 posts
11 tags
[Pending title: Meat Market]
I am bloody, pink,
waiting under glass of
a butcher shop window
between steaks and spare ribs
and we are all bound with twine.
My neighbors change because they
are cold and carry potential,
but I am just cold.
It took a long time for the decay
to rise to my surface and for
mold to bloom on my skin,
green and purple fractal flowers.
No amount of fire can
burn away the rot...
11 tags
Monarch
There is a rope
with a sailor’s knot,
never to be undone,
tied around my middle.
It cuts under my ribcage
and burns red raw skin on my sides
and my belly.
I’m chasing a butterfly but
I can’t catch it.
My rope is tied to a tent,
and the tent is filled with bones
with skeletons
and I keep dragging them behind me.
There are skeletons for my father
telling me...
12 tags
In the Pool Hall
Globes of mellow colors rest in a two dimensional plain of green, and a crack interrupts the careful order and forces a new interpretation of rules, trials and natural law. Each separate universe falls one by one, swallowed by black holes, leaving them stacked on top of each other, struggling to be seen and crawl back, hoping for at least a temporary benignity. They are unnoticed but expect an...
7 tags
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10 tags
[no title, and I hate this one.]
Conceptually, it is everything
I stand for.
But the definition of a child’s
crush is seeing the prettiest
boy on the playground, chasing
him until he gives up
and you can wrap your arms around
him in a bone-crushing,
soul wrenching hug,
and maybe,
he might as you
to be his girlfriend.
Maybe he would hold your hand
as you swing back and forth
on two swings until
they...
12 tags
Saturday Night
After spending
centuries, eons, eternities,
exploring and erasing
everything programmed into
my hardware, I
check my phone and realize
it is only ten pm.
That watery fluid in
clear glass bottles,
all 40 ounces of it, is about
five inches away from my
bitten, rough fingernails.
If I wanted to, I could take it.
If they offered me,
I would.
But it’s okay. I never like...
12 tags
I am
the pen that goes
Scratch Scratch
over white plains that
never get smaller.
one sock that
wears away and frays,
untangling, falling loose,
the holes in a heel are
the breaches of my sanity.
the towel that you use to
cover the mirror during a shower.
a backpack, bursting
with books on
atoms and philosophy
and American Psychos
and all the things I don’t care about.
...
13 tags
[No title, yes I used a Harry Potter metaphor....
You’re armed with weaspons of mass
Consumption:
Fork, knife, plate of
Inedible consumables that
is still almost empty
before you claim your
terrirotry and build an
Iron Curtain.
And you are not Russia and not
these United States that proudly
wave the flag of
Independence and Self Suffering.
You build your iron curtain out of
clean, clear glass,
and the fingerprints
...
6 tags
[Insert title here once I think of one]
In the end, it doesn’t matter at all,
because even if this dance does end
in dinner and a
bland romantic comedy and
naked bodies and tongues that
scrape the back of throats
someone will go home
trapping a ocean wave of
brine and froth under their
own thin eyelids.
The ocean that never quite makes
it past those red dykes,
but they’re all there,
with the sharks and the
sea...
