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My Sordid Past

I’ve posted this online before, but never on this blog. It’s one of my favorite anecdotes to tell, so I feel like I should repost it here. Read on for the uncanny tale of…

My Night as a Male Stripper! (DUN DUN DUNNNNN!) (Continued)

Dusted Violet

don’t betray my sweet within
to say
without not core cold measure wit
to say but not just to say
chill winded my sweet parade
cascade
catch close before we fall into
weep within

caroling con
can’t cast fizzle wits
but stuffed
we sleep
sleep sleep sleep sleep
waking onwards
betrayed

Composition #66

engines are running
it’s time
for silence
or wherewith to be
all wrapped up like a sandwich
always running
in circles around my own head

& even
so folded up like paper cranes
with a book
propped up to go
get out get out get out
forthwith
my own head

Today Is That Day

cowards die many
feels
these tugging deaths if
we
day beware into the technicolor
waves of anxiety pulling me back no idle theme
of ghost
strings today is that away make
no weak & this ache
all by break
but shadows have offended the cinemascope dream & obsession
drifted into seafoam your galaxies
& have & all times before their dream

Out in the Great Wide Open

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the online environments I and many, many other people participate in. As I see more friends leaving or taking long breaks from Facebook and Twitter because they don’t consider their experiences there healthy, I wonder “What is the point of these sites? Is it a good point?” (Continued)