September 2010
1 post
August 2010
1 post
June 2010
3 posts
May 2010
2 posts
April 2010
2 posts
A minus retracted, moving at the harp, presence weaves the dancers and triviality. He thinks but does not know, withering their memories along with his own. Adjusted by aperture, the negative has bled all about the room. There is nothing but inverted colour, traversed space and shapeless sound. If not for spread-fingered radiation shadows and history burn our hunger may subside. Nobody will care...
March 2010
5 posts
A staircase, drunken and narrow. Rested by a gaunt window, We’ll bite down , grit and wrench the arrow from the harrowing spine of our spire. Paranoia, stalked thin by treason . Peeling back the epidermis. We are architecture and silently we radiate. Gorged, bodies are buildings and we falter and fold into horizons until there is nothing left at all. Sutured, tied tight about the skeletal...
Do not mistake my compassion for a lack of intent. If I am to be judged. The derailed shall not be seated. The road behind is thick with widows. Bent and wrapped in razor trails, they speak in barbed tongues of only a frauds existence. I know that face and the assumption is insulting, a broken grin, detailing only bare skin and the smooth recollection of absolutely nothing.
All teeth and mantle,...
I haven’t spoken in days. Peace avoided. My bed is well-made. Opportunity is no longer calling and voracity has driven off all those who might have stayed. On my back I have waited… Slithered, skulked and hesitated. Stricken, sickly and Weighted down. Forgive me for this, I know it’s belated. I can’t leave. Not for the good of all. I have too many questions…...
Drifting passed us, a glass armada. Take position or you’ll have to stay. Dearly departed, no, don’t you start it, by unforseen strings we are way laid .
The Heir and heiress. Their truce spent careless, holding up red hands as they retreat away.
Through the stellar rot we rolled and veered while between crooked teeth the hungry void leered. All I kept hearing from all the fleshy gears…...
February 2010
3 posts
Full of rage. A list of names. The bed-frame is etched with notches and scars from nights full of games. I don’t know whose this is. The faceless stains. These aches and pains. You’d turn, gloat and float away. I don’t know whose this is, but it’s not mine anymore.
It’s final drinks. It’s time to leave. Put your cards on the table and raise your glass. We the wretched. You frail pallid wreck....
In the event that I do not deliver… I’ll be yours… You’ll be mine. Chained to the wheel and locked at the helm of this scalpel edged pledge drive. Contained and lovelorn, the end will come and we’ll be weathered. Extravagant, knotted and strung by tether. Beneath the moon we will bend. All of us water worn.
There’s venom crawling from the jaws of salvation. All of us gathered in the...
The first God I remember was a Santa Claus God, who you only turn to around Christmas time, who you tried to butter up, and you got mad at if you didn’t get what you wanted. That didn’t make sense. I knew if there was a God, he could see through us, like we were made out of cellophane, like he could stare directly into our hearts, the way we look into an aquarium, like he’d know...
January 2010
1 post
December 2009
17 posts
We are all doomed. Who will want us after we’ve been consumed? Frequency has called the banshee blind and still we’re moving on. Someone else’s motives have been planted. The roads cut off, we’re stranded. Who says there’s nothing new about being empty handed? This adultery wears me like a suit. Through the dust, I’m in full pursuit. Pull back. It’s endless. Retreat. Oh...
Liam Neeson: Totally fucks with Albanians.
“Pornography hits the blind corner of reason. It directly addresses our primitive...”
– Virginie Despentes (via nightmarebrunette) (via breathless9972)
November 2009
57 posts
Furrowed trenches. We arm with contrition. It is my right to doubt. As the world grows dimmer. I lay awake. Dreamless. Stretched between stakes. I lay awake while the dark speaks in over-whelming shapes. Heave ho… You torrid malcontent. Heave ho… You horrid twisted miscreant. I hear the weight of nothing pressed thickly upon me. All are leaving. It is my right to doubt. As all things...
“We escaped the rigours of exposure, hunger and discomfort only to fall into the...”
– Raoul Vaneigem, The Revolution of Every Day Life (via semicolonlove)
“In moments of crisis one is never fighting against an external enemy, but always...”
– George Orwell
