The shadow of what I’m perceived to be is growing longer than the part of me that casts the shadow. People want who I was, not who I am. Used to be thin, used to be a dancer, used to look forward to the future, used to chase ( Read more... )

I have a collection of scissors on the inside of my jacket but I am not a poet ( Read more... )

The pain in me is like a light, a light that leads the way ( Read more... )

The pain in me is a boulder. Waves turns rocks into beaches over millennia but I only have fourty years at the outside. So don’t be a wave. Be a jackhammer. Be an earthquake. Be a pickaxe. Grind me down to sand so I can flow through your hourglass figure. Let me be something other than an unmoving blank face. Let me be the passage of time ( Read more... )

The twisted reach of a bent pier bringing Rio closer to your heart. Each branch of your basketball-sneaker heart creaking in the cold night outside a bedroom window. Black wood perfect for magician’s wands making fingers for haunted treehouse hair. The clown of your expectation will fornicate with the wind and nothing will come of it. Each shot ( Read more... )

Fat, old animals don’t exist in the wild. They only exist in zoos ( Read more... )

Desperation leaves us open to new things ( Read more... )

It feels to me quite reckless not to worry all the time ( Read more... )

Tiny hummingbirds with the mouths of vacuum cleaners sip the fruity shampoo from my head in the shower and I’m afraid to step out into the cold bathroom of the rest of my life regardless of the fact that it’s a sunny day ( Read more... )

She’s a plane ticket day-job earthquake wearing a fire engine and calling herself a beer bottle. I’m no judge of paper mache but as the future goes, she etches smoke onto mirrors with her brilliance. She’s the severed arm of justice hanging lopsided in the senate’s butchered house. Every upside-down umbrella knows just how she feels. A ( Read more... )