It's funny, once I start writing, all i want to do is write. But I can't seem to bring myself to write without the school aspect there haunting me.
It's easier to draw from some superficial thing like school, than to draw from within. Maybe I'll try doing that more..
loaded pictures here
wondering why there’s always
a liar around
however it is
we won’t make it up for you
you have to be you
a white crystalline
cliché. made up of nature
and moments and warmth.
known some call is air
am. I am not what I once
was. my name for it.
tea leaves floating on
top of a milky surface
she swears on her life.
asian boy singing
tapping his foot under the
table, he laughs loud.
apathetic, she
walks, amongst glowing
eyes, and she dances.
red brawny soup
we leave sitting alone.
wants to be eaten.
refrigerator
magnet,
“stop thinking of him!”
everything sounds
better on vinyl, he claimed
to me, early hour.
whatever as long
as it’s fun, tonight we go
to that place we like.
languidly she falls
head first, toes last, inside of
him and his stories.
empowered we spoke
like we had tongues as long as
our egos, yes we did.
calling radio
as if it weren’t already
as dead as their kids.
obsessed with our life
that exists inside of what
we think, computers.
pencils are now
only obsolete, but
hurt my fingers too.
cracked statue lies in wait
until the light found it’s way
in to uncover.
the gold light that is
what we think god looks like, white
light, gold teeth, bling bling.
sleeplessness tweaks at
the spot between my shoulder
blades. yawning again.
