A dying poets pen suspends itself in relative safety between the fabric of thrift store slacks. This is where I live...
Sep 21, 2007
020601109813122
Dear Onlyness,
Confidence is a frightening emotion/addiction to...:
A never land of anti-childhood dreams, towering above brave fallen leaves. Winter couldn't come soon enough. A bleeding fingertip to conceal all inner desires, bound by fictional …
Sep 21, 2007
05090522
Between desire and her, he lingers- Blind is his enigmatic circle with paper as poetry's prisoner.
If he could kill an angel, he would, and sigh like letting every sad child speak this feeling with its quiet smiles. Her clean embrace. His cold breath, …
Sep 21, 2007
10080522
This wish, like most wishes, has a self. A body. A thought. This wish however, has no end. And dies accordingly:
Part 1.
I trusted them, like every childish fantasy will live within mine, reality... To kill the fever, love: I seldom die. The silence is …
I seem to remember my father owning one of those things... Sorta antiquated, right? I mean, we've moved beyond all that, right?
Lacy , Dec 20, 2007:
Hello my dear friend
How was your terribly long bus ride? I hope that all is well up yonder. It was truly a pleasure to see you and if I was with you right now I would probably sing you a jesus filled christmas carol. Happy fucking holidays! Thank you for the music, I am really enjoying it! So much love-Lacy Bree D.