The dim, weak light only appears beautiful when there is so much darkness surrounding it.
Fluorescence draws the eye to anything other than the light.
We can get so used to it.
We can make ourselves so blind.
But I would rather have a warm soft glow
Than the harsh phosphorescence of cylindrical bulbs
Snapping on strings above and about my head,
And I’d certainly rather have that
michigan has two seasons:
winter and construction.
We’re the kids our parents warned us about becoming
We exist in the spaces between words and each breath we take is another footnote to explain why we act this way.
Sometimes the small things are just small things.
Continue reading “One For the Mercy Kill”
I’m a caricature of love for you
Continue reading “Comic Strip”
I wish I had the talent to paint you all the skies we never got to lay under
but there are too many skies we missed
and are missing
Continue reading “To Make an Ashtray of the Moon”