I remember a time when sons made grown men cry, and when the softening of fathers made younger men do the likewise. They argued over where I was allowed to put my computer, and I felt my fear swell as their voices were raised and their invisible fists pounded every solid item in the living room. The same door slammed twice and muffled vocal chords ( Read more... )

I am Irvine's sad, bored youth-- sitting in Langson Library, an undefined undergraduate between the stages of 3rd and 4th, but perhaps more like a 2nd and 3rd in relation to a 2012 graduation date. Throat burning with the smell of pear, something sour, something cold coating my tongue, dehydrating and weakening my liver. A 50$ compilation of ( Read more... )

You are like pornography for my emotions, a moving collage of photoshopped images for my mind to waste it's time on, taking you all in and bleeding you back out in various forms, aches, tears, heaving, curse words, silent glares and flaming hatred. I have seen you so often that the pictures burn like branded etchings to my eyes, so that I can feel ( Read more... )

Another one bites the dust.

want to feel as though I have some sense of security. Never that feeling of desperation, gasping for air begging for love as we know it. I want to skip the whole heartache part, the entire ask to receive portion and just have it given. For no other reason but that I deserve it, and for no other reason besides. I want there to be an appreciation of ( Read more... )

English ( Read more... )

If you'd only stop pretending.

I have touched the backsides of so many vintage photographs that my first and middle fingers have turned black. I am fatigued and want nothing to do but to go home and shift through all my possessions and burn. everything. Starting over, bleaching everything, would be so nice, so calm. But then another side of me wants to drag the plush aqua velvet ( Read more... )

Does that make me crazy?

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He's just a loveboat rowing me away.