Please don’t be late.

Warnings are best ignored just before spectacular catastrophes. I repeat. Deceit is most inflated when kept in gullible company. Furthermore. Always let moths warm themselves by the fires, set by hungry spiders. After all. Once bitten, twice shy and what are scars to butterflies? Or fish to barrels? Or blades to pistols? It’s official. Willful […]

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Ode to Honeymoon

At first the thirst is consuming Doleful eyes and manic cravings The vehement intrigue Lending an apple wax shine To every inane detail Paper mache butterflies Hung with twine A debutante ball brimming With cardboard constellations An era Affectionately known as ‘pre-war’ Before the necessity For antebellum therapy Virginal hearts bask In the insistence of […]

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a lesson in forgiveness

I forgive you, darling. I forgive you, in spite of. I forgive you, for all of it. I forgive you, for the arrogance. I forgive you, for your cowardice. I forgive you, for the emptiness. I forgive you, for your two handsome faces. I forgive you, for the ugliness behind them. I forgive you, for […]

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before this

ignorance is indeed bliss a vital tributary to vanity’s Rhine as he feigned total nescience of my presence, thumbing through random pages of Nabokov assorted stoic philosophy practicing sleight of hand and casually sipping some supposedly-holistic tea lauded by one of his many poor choices some insufferable cunt some forgettable one night stand she was […]

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they all do

falling in love is like a time piece affixed to a suitcase full of dynamite when consciously dismantled complicated mechanisms components layered look like nothing more than mind fuck’s each an individual risk adrenaline spikes the infinite possibilities for irreversible tragedies kept in perfect time a linear ultimatum counting down 10… 9… 8… the seconds […]

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t e r r i b l e

it was somehow, always the least deserving of muses provoking the most prolific of prose the reasoning seems that pain translates beautifully onto paper chaos ripens into catharsis  and inconsistency appears to be utterly inspirational so perhaps it goes without saying writers have terrible taste if only they chose their lovers as carefully as their covers — […]

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in spite of myself

in the midst of a terrible drought when all things seemed to wither in a sort of woeful unison I became fertile and impenetrable in spite of myself on the Achilles heel of strife where vitriol seemed to tether in a sort of malignant belonging I became immune and dauntless in spite of myself at […]

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