Stilted Swings on the Shadows of the Night

Stilted swings on the shadows swoon nightly as do creatures accords. I pursue my dreams in them they self and swoon in pursuit of a virtual lust and mistake. Help be thy name the name on every wall and mirror. Sacred, sacred still stint and stilted in the night. In the night, in rage andContinue reading “Stilted Swings on the Shadows of the Night”

The Burden of Empathy : Chapter 9

Chapter 9 I dreamed I fucked her again.  This time without the ending event, we just fucked and fucked and fucked.  I would actually have the same dream not to long after this one.  It was a perfect dream, not because it was about fucking, just because I knew one day I could have her. Continue reading “The Burden of Empathy : Chapter 9”

The Burden of Empathy : Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Then I had another dream. I was talking to her, telling her everything about myself.  Confessing every single pathetic detail of my infatuation with her.   But suddenly she changed.   Suddenly I wasn’t taking to her, but the girl whom I struck whilst pummeling her boyfriend.  But what I was saying wasn’t changingContinue reading “The Burden of Empathy : Chapter 6”

The Burden of Empathy : Chapter 5 “I’ve just had 18 straight whiskies, I think that’s the record” Dylan Thomas’s last words.

Chapter 5 “I’ve just had 18 straight whiskies, I think that’s the record” Dylan Thomas’s last words. That night, I had a dream.   The dream was about her.   We fucked in my dream, we fucked in the hottest most passionate of ways, totally naked, arms and legs wrapped around each other and locked inContinue reading “The Burden of Empathy : Chapter 5 “I’ve just had 18 straight whiskies, I think that’s the record” Dylan Thomas’s last words.”

I am My Mind and One are Three

I am my mind, One are three, Sense is none, Our Dreams are real, Our talks are waste, Our vaudeville is dead, Our wives are prudes, Our Husbands are daughters, Our Sons are whores, Our pages are dead, and everything is a satire upon a joke upon Irony. HA! 3/27/12

Traded Grey

Coming yet is the set of night, the yellow of light is traded grey. Simple so it seems yet intricate beyond any dream. Explications searched, and explications sought. Dreamed, and also bought. 10/29/10

Marked Upon the Hour

Our Collective sobs, going unnoticed by a firing council,  park ended apartment to held the     purposed feuds, patron urges,      and patron saints,  their ancient monarchs     and their command to sing  and sing once again. Satyricon was a farce, and it is important to be ernest, and is not truth simplyContinue reading “Marked Upon the Hour”