it’s the funny sound that the fan makes when you’re right below it.

a sweet pitched twitch that lets you hear maneuver.

that quiet reminder you’re only a vibration with electric matter.

you.  are.  electric, baby.

and i want to give you my plug.

this is how i feel..

the year has ended.. perhaps it isn’t quite what you thought it would be.. it isn’t quite what you thought i would be. i felt it more in the last 24 hours, but i can tell you nothing…

perhaps your hard knock life brings you to a catapult.. these 24 hours..

and the blame comes down..


too much for my own good.. what am i anyways?..


..and the blue light warms my face. sleepy drunk.. sleep quiet now.

but it wont rest. like a band-aid pulled from a freshly healed wound.

maybe now you can feel it?



too much for my own.. whatever that means..


i found you silly, laughing at yourself again. wishing for more than the deep end of a nerve. you felt the tear form in the corner, and you smiled.

finally, all that you waited for. all those hours meant nothing to your twelve.


goodbye love

memories scream soft against this void

dreamless into frantic summer after you smear the past

girl shot

trust whines

but the moons stars sun purr like music for her

the sound sweet silent listen

she became that rock over moments since.