one sentence

Knowing that she owns a body without a soul explains her lack of religion and her distaste for science, but not the anti-destitution of her stubborn resolution to brag about the holster without understanding the gun.

Laugh it up all you want, but at the end of the day I'll always be the one that had enough willpower to resist.  

I am the strongest man you will ever meet; I am the weakest man you will ever know.

While
seas of white hats
rush about and revolt
and crowds cheer noiselessly
and black-clad workers yell
at the top of their [silent] lungs
and blood is spilled
as feet hurry down
city steps

The pianist
plays on&on
occasionally
crossing one hand over
the other.

There's a reason my
multi-media'd goodbyes are
forced and
unfortunate.

You don’t write poetry for the people you take for granted, the people you love by default; it doesn’t even occur to you until it’s already too late (until it’s too late & their DNA has already been transcribed, their personalities etched & their breath stopped, until it’s too late, already too late) for them to ever hear your words.

i. My middle name will not carry you someplace far across the universe, will not extend your horizons to impossible landscapes left unimaginable, fanciful to the mind.

ii. My eyes will shatter when you pierce them too quickly, spider cracks splintering against the thick icy blue with which you’ve so suddenly become entranced.

iii. My words will not heal the scratches & dents I’ve left upon your heart, my handwriting scrawled haphazardly against the cool heat of your skin. Read more »

There's something stale about meeting new people.

People have written of the "music-like rhythm"s of a hundred voices talking and shouting and eating and walking, but to me it all sounds like an eternal buzz; something much like what's found in crowded hallways and hummingbird wings.

For Sale By Owner: FREE
one Bible;
Lighter.

I am twistedly pleased with my flaws and lapses of sanity, like an author proud to have finally created a realistic character.

This is my story.

No matter what you say, we will never drift apart. (I hope.)

When you tell me that i am beautiful, i wonder who it is you see.

When I asked you to marry me illegally, I was entirely serious.

I end up telling the truth because it makes for such beautiful meter.

The adults didn’t recognize me with my shorn hair; the kids were fascinated by the blades of my fingernails.

I am a traveling collection of oddities.

They really shouldn’t have been surprised when I slipped off my shoes and waded barefoot among the waterfalls.

She asked me if I liked Christian rock and I introduced her to the Dresden Dolls.

When in doubt, play pool.

I may not be the black sheep of the family, but I am certainly the most sheared.

Coming out is seemed like one of the hardest things I would do, was doing, and now have done.

If life were a keyboard, the L would never intersect with the V, the O would never entangle itself between the I and the E, and everyone would place Y before U.

I must admit it felt good to make you stare.

How do you hold a lucky
penny so that it
stays heads-up?

Technically if you're sleeping you're alive.

Their voices taste like pity; I punch the wall.

Could you taste the firecrackers in my lungs?

audaciouswav.mp3

This is what happens when I try to use Audacity...

i.
No one knows what to do with me.

ii.
To think I ever thought sunlight was what it was worth!

iii.
I close my eyes and tell myself that it's still Beth screaming between my ears.

iv.
If you don't deserve to edit then you don't deserve to die.

v.
I can't help but feel a little terrified because I'm aware that maybe, just maybe, I'll wake up and none of what I ever imagined will be real.

vi.
The words want to carve endless expanses on our skin and it’s people like us that let it happen, it’s people like us that let out our spirits when our mind-space gets too cramped, people like us that laugh when we burn our fingers reaching into the fire, people like us that stop and stare when we break our skin on bricks.

vii. Read more »

Sometimes I just forget what I'm fighting for.

I wish I could draw my muse from something other than anger because it hurts not to be able to write when I'm happy.

The weather in Vermont is bipolar.

We tried to define love last night.