that one with the boy with the words

and in my mind, we are always having an argument out of context. it's rude, really, to passersby, who must catch snippets of scathe after scathe and have no idea what it means. i imagine us firing semantic bullets for little to no reason, inflicting pain for the mere reality that we are humans. and by the end, we find that we have strangled each other to the point of white lights and lives in minutes moments. the inspiration? i burnt the burgers or you lost my book or it was tuesday.

and when i do slip into these "fantasies," i am astounded by man's unexplainable capacity to hurt and be hurt.

Re: A Secular Kiss

a raisin is not a grape.
your eye is not a universe.
and i--
well
i am the absence
of God.

a plea of ignorance

i don't know what i want.
i don't know what i'm capable of.
i don't know what i'm allowed.
i don't know that i can do this anymore.

masochism

whenever i read the right book, catch the right movie, see the right show,
i am plagued by the reality of all the thoughts i'm not having, lives i'm not leading, the places i'm not.

god, i love the arts.