I’m, I’m, stuck in a fast food world in a fast food war with fast food woman I'm a fast food man with easy romantics I'm, I'm a fast food junkie who writes fast food stories little meaningless poems of my mind whizzing around like little flies on spoiled food I am, I am a... Lees verder →
When your head is a mush of wet cement about to become concrete with steel pin shot between spines floating above a falling lump of kryptonite your eyes become too slow to close them, again you feel lost in a broken time. You crow your way into darkness 10 000 miles above Zen crashing at... Lees verder →
Surely every year on whatever for school you apply, there is always one of those completely useless courses taught by a fossil. Now this one is clad in a dirty green" colbert", too small "plastron" and brown too-high-fitting slacks. I originally looked forward to this course impressively titled "Computer Science with Introduction to New Communication... Lees verder →
Trapped in a small living room the rose wants to bloom, it grows, opens its shells, shows its thorns and asks very quietly, "touch me, there on the silk soft spots, not at the bottom where it will poke." While the growing stops and the living groom becomes the thought of a man craving more,... Lees verder →
I met her during a theatre course. The first lesson, we had to improvise in pairs of two, I immediately scolded her for 'bitch' and 'whore', with the rest of the students applauding loudly. It was fiction. Screaming it out for a moment felt great. Sparks splashed out of my eyes, I was totally in... Lees verder →
I can't focus. I am already in ecstasy when I only touch the gently broken texture of the paper in front of me. The structures of the writing, not seeing them but feeling them. Rub them with my fingertips or with my downy dry lips and then read them aloud, gently blowing, breathing in and... Lees verder →
I muse through the window frame, torturing myself by thinking about what I don't know, that I don't know, where to go, that I don't know why I exist. I muse on a way forwards, and despair sits next to me.
Fastfood romantics 