watch patterns turn over and over and feed back in to your world, women and chemical affairs, the same stars that have witnessed since birth the patterns emerge and repeat, repeat, recycle and repeat. the moving parts of this machine run not on gasoline but blood, time, spirit and ethereal concept, love and lust and…

i have become something other than the sum of my own parts, hands through thin and troubled hair, eyes bloodshot and out of focus, everything thrice dissolved and offset by its own simulacral image. blood memory and familial madness, interactions with others, a strange presence permeates throughout the heart and follows wherever i go, ghosts…

i live among arachnids great and small and i have entered in to a conflict with the greater and more terrifying, their long thin legs stretching slow and full of horror like death threats, dark agony, filled with genetic wisdom and necessity, these wretched bastards. these many legged maniacs that drift across the carpet, who…

i dreamt that you and i were devils and we slowly destroyed one another with fire and hail and shrapnel, words of murder and consequence thrown about carelessly like so many wasted hours. i dreamt that you and i were lovers and we reveled in the company of only one another, rolling and rolling wrapped…

this is an expression of nature, this word, ‘war’, it is a necessary catharsis through which all things expel the waste product of power and being, the shedding of hope and fear and the removal of those who can not adequately adhere to this principle. this is necessary, this word, ‘war’, it must be maintained…

fluorescent light from my younger days, a child of strange merging, wandering through the house looking for things unknown; such light now, so many years on, spoils the utter darkness of her apartment though it scarcely finds us in the bedroom and it is just enough to know we exist. she lies naked on her…

is she real, or have i made her from the strange raw fabrics of my thoughts? did i stitch her together from different patterns that converge into a great madness of heart? she pulls the thread of my being as if to unravel it with obscene prejudice, perhaps to recycle these frayed strings in to…

keep it in your head, these words: angels also fuck. did you think god had made them all at once? that he, in his penthouse of clouds calculated some arithmetic whereupon the number of angels stood on the far end of an equal sign? that some variable perhaps existed to fluctuate, to account for our…

planes coerce the clouds glowing and fading like fireflies the size of distant planets and her shadow mimics everything on the wall behind the bed like a cauterized copy given to by the blue diffused light of the television. though your body is close you are elsewhere as if your parts are halved by some…

ashes in my drink floating on the surface, mildly disturbed by the tapping of a restless extremity, observing cold rain drops streak across the windshield like late sperm racing over a spillway toward some inevitable disappointing conclusion, sitting quietly in question at 2am in the smoke filled cabin of a dimly lit car, running the…