I dream of your fingers upon the teeth of a piano. I dream of a day where the past is liberated from the shackles of the future. These images. These desires. They help the fire in my heart keep burning, and even when that fire dwindles and is all but gone, still it burns, no… Read more

The streets look the same, and yet time passes always. Flowers come into bloom then wilt like everything else. Faces change then come back again. Months turn into years, and still you lose, but a dream is a dream and always will be. Words make way for more words, and sometimes it’s as if none… Read more

The ash of my cigarette. It falls from my hand to be swept away by a gust of wind while she’s somewhere nearby taking a piss in some bushes. It’s dark, so dark that she can’t be seen, but every so often I catch a glimpse of her beady eyes through the leaves and branches… Read more

Your hair that flows behind you and all about my drunken face. The taxi that takes us through time. Organic vessels wrapped in madness and fear and the delirium of being both stars and dust in the same quickened breath, and when you lean back your head and laugh, I laugh with you, and as… Read more

Watching her as she chews away, I stretch my legs under the table and turn my feet in circles. Supposed to be good for circulation or something. Helps me unwind, I know that for sure. She acknowledges me for a second, but she’s too busy devouring her food to pay proper attention. Grease dribbles down… Read more

The restaurant’s full to bursting but I booked us a table days ago so in we waltz drunk and brash and hating everyone because that’s how we roll. The waiter shows us to our seats and I eye him up with disdain, even more so when I see him admiring her tattoos. What a fuck.… Read more

In the middle of the night, maybe a little before, or it could be a little after, she bathes herself in a bath of milk. She shaves her legs and clips her nails. She scrubs her face and combs her hair while all the time that bottom lip of hers is starting to go. She… Read more

When she exhales looking up at the passing meteor shower, she thinks of each shooting star as someone she’s loved. Some are faint and barely there at all, while others shine bright and own the sky. I’m not sure where I would fit on this cosmic scale. Could be I’m a mere speck, almost invisible… Read more

When she slides off her clothes and lies next to me, I squeeze a mole on her belly and she calls me names. Dirty names. Filthy names. She calls me a smelly fuck because I refuse to wash on our days off from work or even change my clothes. My armpits have a tangy air… Read more

I’m falling into the road, and she’s dancing on the thin ice of life. I can smell so many memories and scents, each one as intoxicating as the wine and whiskey that sweat out of me as the parade passes through streets we both love and hate. One minute we’re on the top of a… Read more