What is that joy, that bubbles uncontrollably splatters my insides into colour from monochrome? The TV recreating such an illogical burst in colour and sparkly, in dizzying angles and lens flares, I’m chasing that feeling in drugged youth, chugging and smoking and swallowing until everything is out of control Every revelry; is chaotic, in God’s hands, could be heaven, And because I know I’ve done it - though I can’t remember - I recreate drunken home video into cinematic reel of this life that I’ve lived, as if I could see it outside of myself and fill the emptiness that lingers in the party’s detritus

The fit of your first love, in the cradle of your arms A photograph of you holding her like to hold a bouquet of always knowing that youth only decays And polaroids fade and memory too These fresh gasps of new love as a pantomime of the eternal I’m saying I only knew love when it hurt When it couldn’t last I leave fresh nothing under your epitaph, say, I’ll love you forever, Or however long that lasts

meet me in the small-time ruin, not the Ozymandias of great nation era-marking, centurion legacy. Traverse across patched up sidewalk crack, student housing slated for demolition, past the whittled down patch of forest surrounded by concrete park, lawn, and swing sets. the hollowed-out barnhouse almost burnt down in our last year of high school, dried out wells surrounded by hedge growth- do you turn your eyes to an unfamiliar horizon? the new rise of it, sunset casting gargantuan shadows over lots reclaimed by wildflowers the streets don’t feel the same, I once walked it a thousand times but today find me waiting for an old town that doesn’t exist nothing -not the leaves, not shadow, not city, not snowfall like they used to

when you say words like that / i wanna live to take selfies in mirrors / take my private instagram of food pics/ and sunsets / clouds and solitary streets / and turn it inside out / watching what the audience sees of me / I put the private elegy photos back / I wanna see my outsides like / i could go fuck myself / wear red lipstick again / stop biting my lips raw / bite yours / when you say words like that i’ll / steal back my ownership

i have never asked myself this question in my life. i have never asked myself why I breathe. I read a quote somewhere once that writers write, not because they want to but because they must. So how do you love a thing as central to your existence as drawing…

Las Vegas is a city in the middle of the desert. Far from an oasis, the sprawling city reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. The sun beats down, relentless, the stone of the buildings radiating that heat, the open mouths of their entrances blasting strange-smelling conditioned air. But once you’re out…

I think part of what gets me about this song is the loneliness at the core of it. A timely element of this song is that there are thousands of people sick of being trapped in their homes right now, living the joys, sorrows and many panics under a single…

it certainly smells like fall, is the thought before a neurochemical light blinks on, alerting, flagging, and sending thousands of forgotten memories to the forefront of my mind in tumbled overlay. it’s wet pavement and brick, I see, smell, surveille the wildland of recess playground, the rivers racing into the…

Say thanks to the orange leaf, like Time didn’t make her insistent about leaving Like every assisted breath, and natural alchemy of sunlight and air That fed my tree growth, didn’t push her further and further To the time of endings, fall, The blood-coloured beauty of dead things and chills She’s returning to earth that bore us both i guess that’s a kind of gratitude