Killing Time

S: I hate casinos. J: I didn’t ask you to like being here. I just asked you to be here. S: I would rather be ordering a peanut butter milkshake at that place we drove past on the way into this god forsaken shit hole. J made gagging noises and pulled a face S, looking … More Killing Time

Love

Originally posted on Deviate Left:
This is a conversation I have had from varying angles with different people. Unhealthy love and healthy love. Psychologists will call it different things too, like co-dependency, or obsession. I can only comment on me and my opinion based on my experiences, and in some cases my observations. I am…

Goodbye, Old Friend.

All the beautiful people. Love you. When life is pretty, and you give them what they want. When you are high and shy, and cry and mourn the shallow waters that they walk in. When you jerk and twitch and hitch up your seductive skirt to trail along after the silliness that they leave behind. … More Goodbye, Old Friend.

Reminders

Hear us child, said the bears to the soul through the rotting leaves and the sage, The old soul withers, and leans on the wind and speaks of the moon and its age. She got lost, in the wooded maze; following omens and charms, whispers and promises, lies and magic, and hope- She could have … More Reminders

Trappings

The trappings we drag, for the overnight stay in the damp, dark, cold to the touch; parts of the hell that we personally designed just for moments like these; when the world feels too small for how much we don’t feel.

8.20 Train

Summer nights all sounds the same; the rattle of the heat, against the humidity and the thick of the shame that settles on the city eleven floors below. My skin is sticky with cigarette smoke, and the wretched weariness that feels more like dehydration of the mind; each thought, each movement – an effort not … More 8.20 Train

Move it, Sunshine.

On a hill where wars were once waged, sits a willow that weeps when it rains. It calls to the gods with each blow through the sky; earthed in the pasts remains. The faces and sounds and bloodied grounds; a twisted carnival of shame; hard to breathe even harder to believe that the sunshine isn’t … More Move it, Sunshine.

Dreaming of Hell

Originally posted on Mocking Bird Down:
Tonight, I am afraid to sleep; for fear I will sink too deep. Past the mangled red trees, where reason can’t reach, and into that place where the lost ones weep. Wail. Mourn out loud of wisdom stolen in foolish folly or worse; a second of disconnected dispassion. Hell.…