May 2011
6 posts
1 tag
keep it quiet
something is wrong no one seems to notice the dragons stalking down the crowded city streets each crying havoc each wailing eternal each breathing heavy thick plums of smoke each breathing patiently through gallons of the discarded and misplaced finances one last thing short of a death one more thing near to a miss something is mocking us the children of grace and intention and their productive...
May 27th
3 notes
1 tag
too many at once (scraps)
the children of grace and intention and their productive union grip maleable natures tight pressing fingertips to mechanics and make bold declarations put a title to all things and their numerous existences blink at power outages squint to see what is left as the innocent and ignorant always looking and asking before anyone else dares making the air pregnant with the sad news of some or the...
May 16th
3 notes
1 tag
hallmark fetishists
we are the first to last be spoken before the hopeless lost of detox we have waited for blinding terror we had been bored with anything less we have felt death’s timid sting we are not attractive aggressors we gave war to those who would give war refuge we are soldiers of fortune servants of patience and entropy we fight and die for fate’s favor nodding while listening ...
May 10th
2 notes
1 tag
eternal glaciers (scraps)
to the hopeless lost of detox we have waited for blinding terror we have felt death’s timid sting we are soldiers of fortune, darling servants of patience and entropy we fight and die for fate’s favor nodding while listening without noticing while staring past the physical tendencies of the cigarettes we consume    we have theories of chaos that yield results    we have methods of work...
May 9th
3 notes
1 tag
earnest bastards
earnest bastards wrote a book on extracting refugees from failing third world countries and it was all very helpful but no one liked their tone
May 6th
6 notes
1 tag
steam can't rise forever
“It was and then it wasn’t,”  She sat across from me and made no eye contact.  Every conversation in the room seemed to imply  the one we were holding under this ceiling fan,  this cloud of cigarette smoke and sticky air;  over this table. “So, I wrote a book on god’s long vengeful arm,”  She folded her hands “and I hid it under a rock.”  This...
May 2nd
3 notes