My dearest Evelyn, your pale, freckled skin,
I smell the scent of lilac on it again
poetry
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San Francisco Spirit Ramblings pt. 2
Oh, lurid San Francisco, harsh in your corners and abandoned doorways
poetry
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Tuesday’s got feeling
Much to my own distaste, I’m sitting in a bar alone on St. Patrick’s Day, drinking a fucking Guinness.
poetry
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Christmas stew for the bitter and barefooted
I’d make it with bare feet on wooden floors and retroactively, read the fucking recipe so that it doesn’t burn
poetry
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Sad, Sad Girl
And it’s time to move on, time to let time move me, to fall back into it, gracefully
poetry
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A Bumbling Fool and a Man with a Wife
Sitting alone in this brown wooden chair with the beige upholstery, the one that connie purchased for me.
poetry
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so far from enlightenment, so close to bliss
Feeling frustrated, over stimulated, like too many thoughts and obsessions and fantasies and perceptions of myself and what I want to be and what people think of me […]
