adrenaline

Magritte, the deceased love of my life.

things feel pretty scattered these days, but what else is new. trying to concentrate on organizing my life (more specifically, my bedroom) and keeping it organized. pushing myself to do the things that need to be done, unpleasant as they may be. milking my days off for all they're worth and keeping on making, creating, slicing, gluing, embellishing, blah blah blah. still never alone. these construction workers never fail to make a raucous but after 2 months I've gotten a little better at blocking it out. I can't help but feel off when Aaron's away. hoping this last week without him goes by reasonably quickly.

a journal I made as a gift for someone. fun stuff.

rhodekill

I woke up

I woke the dead up

I was a child

who never wanted to grow up

I used to drink

till I'd throw up

to quicken the day

I never thought you would show up

so when I run

I run in the dark

so I can't see

the mess I make

oh, foolish!

it's too late

foolie-coolie

it's too late, too late

I will walk

in a straight line

how could I not

now that you're mine?

our love

is a fire

it can't be controlled

sometimes you've got to go slow

will I be outdone?

have I gone too far?

I fear the fates

the lie-in waits

oh, foolish!

it's too late

foolie-coolie

it's too late, too late

it's where you are

not where you're going

not where you're from

you are what you love

and that is all

what do you go home to?

I finished the pocket moleskine that I started in mid-September. in due time. this thing is about to fall to pieces.

finally, a quiet place

holding on to whatever warmth

whatever.

feel good lost

learning to savor every last second of my precious alone time.

gravity rides everything

early, early in the morning

it pulls all down on my sore feet

I wanna go back to sleep

in the motions and the things that you say

it all will fall

fall right into place

as fruit drops, flesh it sags

everything will fall right into place

when we die, some sink and some lay

but at least I don't see you float away

and all of the spilt milk, sex and weight

it all will fall

fall right into place

hug a half empty glass

(water damage)

drive-by

I dreamt of being brutalized by perfect strangers that shouted and laughed as they hurled buckets of broken glass at me from all directions. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and stumbled blindly, terrified, humiliated. I breathed in the jagged pieces and cried, tried to scream but could only emit a pathetic bleat. they laughed harder. later, when I escaped the senseless attack I picked the broken pieces out of my raw gums. with each extraction came a fierce stream of blood that splattered the walls and the belongings of the people around me. I cried still with a mouth full of blood. my family and close friends surrendered their sweatshirts to soak up the sanguine outpouring.

cold hands

wish I hadn't lost the knack for translating raw emotion into text.

what I wouldn't give for an additional outlet.

my lonely season

coming to a close.