Howdy!
I piss class.
(Source: youbringfire, via fuckyeahbookarts)
my most recent poem.
IN A WORD, HELL
5-16-2012
The creeping, cracking moments
In the quiet, wasted rooms
Toxic tonic of the stoics
Alcoholic every brew
Promised poison, promised solace
Promise filtered through a bruise
Talk to me, don’t promise me,
It’s shocking how your words will move.
Moments creeping, cracking faster
On their alabaster toes
Pianos, cloves, and bastards
Are all gods when they’re alone
Desperately, and heavily,
Needles scratch the air for tones
Prick the moments for their moans
But they live their lives to shatter
In the corners of your prose.
The creeping, cracking moments
I won’t say I never stole
The creeping, cracking moments
Waiting for me, getting cold
The creeping, cracking moments
In language only I can know
Yes, THOSE creeping, cracking moments
They keep cracking in my soul.
They are still in the Crackhouse, lined up in the exact same spot, in the exact same way, since I lived there last (a full year ago).
The nostalgia is potent.
ALORS A QUOI BON
“Come over here, I have a secret to tell you…
… I love you. Don’t worry, it’ll still be a secret as long as you keep it.”
