new york without her
tired. drunk. stuck in a tiny room. fear of death so intense it goes away. “baby, he’s got to be crazy.” bus ride home. dumb jealousy, i guess who knows what anyone else really thinks
running, running, running
by hurting myself I’m getting closer to god
everyone
Everyone’s fucking other people Everyone’s lying in bed alone Everyone’s got problems Everyone feels unique Everyone feels
high school mind games which lyrics to post looking at her photos on instagram humans never change
feeling young
Sun shining. Rock music on repeat. Catchy hooks. Cheap ice cream. Soda. Feeling young. Talking about girls. Dreaming about money. Wanting to leave. Being unable to. Feeling young. Lost, but filled with expectations that feel like hope. Breaking the speed limit and feeling like you did a bank job. Energy…
Devotional
For the hopeless, remember that you are filled with it–you only need to look in the right places. For the sad, remember that there is happiness in a sunrise, in a smile, and in the presence of your lonely self. For the night, remember that there has been day, and…
dreaming of california
It’s dark and I want it to stay this way for now. Immediately after writing that i thought of walking out in the sun in Santa Barbara. Slowly leaving my apartment and heading down to a cafe to write and work, before the afternoon sun became too harsh. That was…
repulse bay
I’m on a beach and I hear the soft hush of the tide. The sand is uncomfortable on purpose, or I’d never leave. To my left are palm trees and the faint wisp of her black hair. To my right are lights from apartments. On this beach I used to…
promise
Mornings are usually a period of promise. Now it’s 11:41 in the morning and I’m reminded of waking up at my grandmother’s house, her mouth dry, unable to communicate, reduced to diapers and having relatives guess her desires. She died in the morning. Compared to how she lived those last…
privacy
Why is there psychological trauma in a lack of privacy? Why do writers fear the person looking over their shoulder, the unfinished draft, the imperfect sentence? Why do we shy away from showing others who we really are. There is something imperfect and unfinished about all of us. Which is…