• scapegoat


    vices fade in the rear – view . old habits never left behind . fingers never point / d to a scapegoat . these are my fucK ups . oops . you have…

  • vertigo
    grunge poetry


    room is spinning . thinK about the outcome . ignore the what – ifs n focus on how come . how dumb could you possibly become ? raised in the suburbs , never…

  • karma ' s presage

    Karma ‘ s presage

    century old floorboards ache w / pressure . a splinter / d sliver ‘ s worth of warmth breathes phantasmal living shadows . invade sanity , hauntingly . follow up n down narrow…

  • shavasana


    misdiagnosed . prescribed suicidal ideation . side – effect ? peace . all i need , now is a needle n a crown for my thrown . rigor mortis . shavasana . blue…

  • disconnected

    disconnect / d

    hang – over is suicidal . no idea which pill was swallow / d . they ‘ re all part of the daily ritual to balance inner chaos , anyways . cigarettes ,…

  • salvage
    grunge poetry


    i Kept drinKing n Kept smoKing hoping to relieve these horrible moments . but , you saw through the evil i do . my world was grey , you shaded it blue .…

  • fucked
    grunge poetry

    fucK / d

    gets hard not having what you need , asKing for handouts , give me money , please . society is treating me liKe it ‘ s shoe , untying me n reheating the…

  • caterpillar


    responsibility removed from existence is a child ‘ s liberty , or that of a wandering drunK . the legal limit doesn ‘ t define sobriety . thirteen days w / no drinK…

  • sinners blood

    sinner ‘ s blood

    fleshly sinner ‘ s blood . Knees fused to throw – rug . Knelt for days in repentance n mercy . finger abrasions , raw from eternal prayers . holding on for life…

  • wet bandages

    wet bandages

    sorry . a few bandages saturated in stale rubbing alcohol won ‘ t mend a deep wound . touch it w / your dirty fingernails b / c infections inspire me . when…

  • visitor , hello Kitty


    vixen of the night . a bed – drifting bandit . hello Kitty , Kid – sized bandages . only taKes three to cover the scars of a childhood she outgrew , too…

  • tilt
    short stories


    His eyes try to open but they feel as though they‘re being pushed closed from some gentle, yet firm force.  The sound of machine guns and a familiar voice yelling out bastards is…

  • poetry


    from higher frequencies borderless vibrations, away from THE third observer, who never judges whose bacK is turn’d towards an artificial trompe l’oeil, a taciturn gate-keeper, who, dress’d in rags, perches amid the pair…

  • poetry


    sit ; cross your legs , open your palms , close your eyes n be quiet . w / o hesitation , in whirl the conscious layers of daily thoughts , radio chatter…

  • prose

    the voice

    from a faint whisper grew a harden/d n hateful voice that crawl/d from the bacK of my head n squat/d at the forefront of my mind n there he has rest/d since the…

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