on cold fronts and the need for warmer jackets....
i'm afraid i have nothing to say this afternoon...
here's some more fucking poetry:
a name for my troubles
aged polaroids of my mother's face smiling,
white teeth illuminated by the flare of a lifeless camera's flash
gorgeously immature, she is safe and sound in carelessness
it is likewise in the cracks of the pavement
or in the expression of my eyes, reflected in mirrors of bourbon
a severed emptiness in the telephone calls
on hopeless nights packed with garbage dreams
where thoughtful doctors lay hands on my heart,
set your mind at rest, they'll say
it is still beating
--William Torrey
here's some more fucking poetry:
a name for my troubles
aged polaroids of my mother's face smiling,
white teeth illuminated by the flare of a lifeless camera's flash
gorgeously immature, she is safe and sound in carelessness
it is likewise in the cracks of the pavement
or in the expression of my eyes, reflected in mirrors of bourbon
a severed emptiness in the telephone calls
on hopeless nights packed with garbage dreams
where thoughtful doctors lay hands on my heart,
set your mind at rest, they'll say
it is still beating
--William Torrey