I don’t really feel like writing.
I don’t really taste or smell
look or sound like poetry.
I just am

  • Age: 24
  • Joined: November 2009

Journal

Dear Everyone Ever

I’m sorry I’ve been so lazy with my replies ( rather, I’m sorry I haven’t replied at all) It seems the only time I can manage now is to just get my thoughts down and leisurely stroll through all of your beautiful works, if only briefly. I know it may not seem personal me posting this for all to see, but I hope you take this to heart when I say that I can’t express ho…
Posted about 7 years – 1 comments

Ch-Ch-Ch-Check it

Ya’ll should check out my friend kaja, she’s pretty awesomely radical / BOOM
Posted about 7 years – 2 comments

Untitled

You don’t know my history / You don’t know my reputation / You don’t even know my name / I think thats why I like you
Posted over 7 years – 2 comments

Dear Redbubble

I haven’t found the time to get back to everyone that’s checked out my work, but I’m gonna try to get back at it once this midterm week is over. I just wanted to say how deeply flattered I am that you like my poems, I read so much of all your work and I’m so amazed at the beauty that to even receive attention from most of you is…exhilarating? Intoxicating? Regardless…
Posted over 7 years – 5 comments

Recently Added

Dynaco

Stain glass / chandeleirs / wicker lights / outdoor tile / how many cigarettes / does it take to float / an urn? / how much ember / do w…

Recalling that meal

We are creatures of word play / and bloated hopes, trying to find / the thin line that separates our skin / from the night’s pan fried ca…

Coughing up ash

I’m going to die with a pen in my hand / preferably a Bic round stic Grip fine. / And when they find my resting place / I’ll still be swigg…

Fading

Rusty G train to the / tightly wound L / window day dreams and / fading white concrete / L to the G past the / neon Gourmet Deli / a stack…

Retrospection

“Deathrose” / was what you were first calling it / when the legend of your creation / stretched from the Bay to / the Big …

Its getting late

You ever get that feeling / that a rusted shovel must get / as its resting against the swollen wood / of a backyard shed, collecting the d…

Dont feed the animals

And who, among the wiser words, / would be willing to shine light on / tomorrow’s shadows? In youth we / felt suited/ the world tailored …

How I’m Gonna Live Forever

A good portion of my life has been behind the wheel / Passing mailboxes / Occasionally opening their contents and / Sifting through the sen…

Thoughts on Tea

I channel all of who I am / into the tea I am drinking, / green jasmine / and swallow myself down into the pit of my stomach. / Being al…

Mr. Man

Deeper than the underneath / of sheets he’s sinking low / The Boogie Man with sharpened teeth / Will feast upon your soul / And watch your…

Southeast

It takes four and half-tracks on Led Zeppelin, / $5 dollars for a parking spot, / and two business men in / button downs…

A poem recalling that meal

one last meal and / a toast to new beginnings. / Tearing up knowing the future is out of our hands / and later / Trying to find the thin l…
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