Friday, July 30, 2010

fiction is

I live in car crashes.
There's something incredibly
sensual in the chaos
of two vehicles joining
in a violent ballet of
twisting metal and showering
glass, in one swift moment,
and at ninety-two Gs, leaving
the fates of (at least) two
lives in the hands of unforgiving
steel and merciless asphalt.
And physics.

I live in car crashes, I wait for
them. They are final, and lasting.
They define beauty. They define

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I got pictures on my mind

Twenty days later and empty.
Starting over.
I may find myself forgetting
casual consumerism.
To the greatest extent possible.
What's the point if I can find
another path, one of least(er)
Hello, the year is 1984 and I
live in Airstrip One.
Where have I gone?
Where have I been?

Where am I going?

Thursday, July 8, 2010

"Believe me,
if I started murdering

there'd be none of you left."

Our world is sane
and I am out of my mind.
Out of my mind.
Ot ou me mine.

The sun is in tune.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

I've lost my mind.
My soul.
My self.

Bring it back.