December 2011
November 2011
Wine-warm and wondering whether this is it or am I colorblind in my nerves, am I only the smoke and not the blue white flame - is the wetness I feel actually the rain or just the condensation inside a glass box - where have I actually left fingerprints? Nothing seems right, nothing seems whole, the core of it all has escaped into the grooves in the tires and down into basement concrete and out...
Oh please distract me from my paper before I die.
A - If I’m in love. B - Who the last person I talked to on the phone was. C - How long it’s been since I’ve kissed. D - If I have a preference for boys or girls. E - How many holes I have in my ears. F - Give me any options, like ‘hot or cold?’ G - The last person I said ‘I love you’ to. H - The last person I hugged. I - The last time I felt jealous, and why. J - How old I am. K- What my full name...
the seventh billion person was born
while i was looking for my reflection
in pools of abandoned rain
and streaked storefront windows
the gaze of strangers
keeps me in my skin
embraced by a body
that often seems only imaginary
such is the nature of knowing
and not knowing
but i trust in the
truth of my survival thus far
: There is something about artists who work with... →
jacvanek:
There is something about artists who work with neon that has always intrigued me. The connotation one usually has with neon signs is places like bars, strip clubs, and exits. Signs for places of impersonal escape.
So to me, private, introspective messages displayed in public spaces pull at…
“Then, one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into...”
– Neil Gaiman (via inastateofwishing)
ahomeboyslife:
exorcise your demons, i want them to be in good shape when i play with them.
