April 24th, 2013
On the outside of the self room is finite, but within the land goes on forever
April 6th, 2013
|07:19 am - He wrote her a Love Song,|
it was titled:
I would dance you into my doom.
The problem is so beautiful
Without a man you're just a bleeder
March 30th, 2013
I appreciate and little shabbiness in my interactions, a loose button here or there. Professional polish is a sign of moral hollowness.
A narrative is always superior to reality for two reasons: It has a point, and it has an END
her eyes look into mine and hallucinated seeing something
March 22nd, 2013
in the water we were splashes of sky
between the slits of falling sea.
Our smiles ate of the same fruit, our bones
ringed from the same needs,
for a time we were estranged from ourselves-
March 18th, 2013
why would a person ever begin telling a story which they hadn't already finished?
February 23rd, 2013
Money spent like a drunk - the first barely grazes the craw, the second dives like a hawk, the rest flutter past as unnoticed as a starling in a storm.
February 6th, 2013
it never would have worked between us, I was a whereof kind of boy, and she was a wherefor kind of girl.
January 12th, 2013
there are times in the fervour of our descent that we find ourselves floating
January 2nd, 2013
|10:34 am - The night bent low|
Ate - Greek word describing a person with an inevitable impulse toward crime.
October 12th, 2012
The argument that life, and by extension stories, must be either comedic or tragic should be contested. The former, because it gives out troubles too little importance. The latter, too much.