There are things you thought you knew about yourself but it turns out that you didn’t or if you did they weren’t what you thought they were, they were something else, something that wasn’t even you, and even so it doesn’t matter now when your stomach is coiled so tightly that you’re beginning to think you might have turned into a box-spring ( Read more... )

This time it has been over a year. 2 days over, in fact. I don't know why I came here now but I think I might even come back again later.

It has not been a year since my last entry this time, but it might as well be.

My insides feel like ripped up parchment.

It's been over a year since I last used this journal.

Guess I've had nothing to say, & still don't.

But I don't want to give up on this thing.

So maybe next time when I return, I will have something to say.

The anxious child desires heavy wool blankets.

A sludge of warmth:
the urge to become the filthy glow
that one exudes;
to be the glow itself,
to be the filth itself;
not the thing mired in-between,
but the all.

Observation leads to sadnesses upon sadnesses.

When the Great Tornado of ‘98 was over & we were released from our moldy bondage in the basement, we slowly walked up the cement stairs, hands pressed against the wall next to us as though we would surely fall over from the terror of it all if we didn’t hold on somehow, my baby brother laughing in nonunderstanding our parents solemn & scared. My ( Read more... )

Her heart’s lagoon the safest place she could conceive, a bottom that would never hurt you, gently bouncing you back up into solar sanctitude. Some deep instinct. A queer rumbling she longed to quell, for this place that could exist nowhere but her dreams, appearing with such lucidity. This is a thing, she thinks, that I must solve.

WHY THE SUN FEELS GLOOMY SOMETIMES:
An ode to the things you didn’t know you wouldn’t have, to be lost.Viscous memories ( Read more... )

Misperceptions Arising From Coarticulation.
There are people who don't know me who want to hurt me. How can that be?
23 or 27 Somethings.
Everything you never thought you couldn't ask.
Taft & Island.
Cat food breath.
In the park he dances with Anger, arms flailing legs whirling, kicking up dust & regrets.
Bird house dreams in Random Lake, Wisconsin