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
If God were a man
He would look just like you
Except something tells me not even he could be as handsome.
But, if he dare be,
I’d start to pray again
With your name on the knuckles of my folded hands.
Continue reading “if god were a man”
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”
There’s an orange sticky note on the mirror in front of me blocking my right eye
Continue reading “good night.”
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”
Are you proud of who you’ve become?
Indeed, you are an aperture of avarice
That the flesh can never fully satisfy.
Within you lies a ferocity so ravenous
A hunger that may never be appeased
And an envy towards the smiling fools
Who walk so languidly away from themselves.