To-Do List: October 201523-10-2015 The way tears well
To-Do List: September 201501-09-2015 Everything is pink when you're on a horse10-09-2015 Make the wok a better place10-09-2015 Mayo is just more chicken18-09-2015 The buddhist slave19-09-2015 Belief and trust are two separate things21-09-2015 There is no such thing as the wrong time to be alive21-09-2015 A blatant disregard for trams22-09-2015 Taking an entrepreneurial approach to her relationships24-09-2015 When business models make relationship sense25-09-2015 Making love poems with strangers30-09-2015 Looking forward to a virtuous cycle of love
To-Do List: August 201512-08-2015 Sand makes sparks15-08-2015 Friday 1am20-08-2015 Find the spiritual dentists!
To-Do List: July 201505-07-15 Everywhere she goes she sees her name06-07-15 In a constant state of suicide07-07-15 Not so great at constant self promotion18-07-15 You give her sensory overload in the best kind of way21-07-15 It's all just biscuits
His Wordsi'mso pleasedit's youx
the push and the pullsoft touchlips creasepartpinkwarmtasteteaseteeth graze“gentle now”suckbitewantmorewhimperpoutbeg“please”
To-Do List: June 201502-06-2015 When it comes to bleeding she always second guesses herself02-06-2015 The birth of a rainbow02-06-2015 Walk towards the sun04-06-20215 Lions on mars04-06-2015 Cats don't nap, they meditate05-06-2015 PEANUTS, PEBBLES AND PENIS!13-06-2015 She is not her self, she is everyone else's13-06-2015 God bless revs and mdma14-06-2015 Trains like bats14-06-2015 Rabbits howling at the moon17-06-2015 When you think about it, vaginas are a lot like biscuits25-06-2015 These strawberries are making my nipples jealous
To-Do List: May 201505-05-2015 The family of arts11-05-2015 Love eletters12-05-2015 in death there is knowing18-05-2015 Bruises on her meridian18-5-2015 More like too fucking late23-05-2015 She is literally 'the little death'28-05-2015 Breakfast epiphanies28-05-2015 Monks with laptops28-05-2015 A tender cervix
Sol Nigerin theblacknesswe findthe light
Brown Eyes Compliments, and AnalogiesBecause I'm sick of people saying there aren't any.Your brown eyes are like the deep intoxication of campaign wine, bubbling with hazing richness and expensive taste.Your brown eyes are like the color of mahogany wood- comforting and home-steady toughness that lets me know you will be the beams of supporting me.Your eyes remind me of Dove chocolate, smooth, creamy, delectable, and melting.The color of brown eyes remind me of mountain terrain and nature, something subtle, but beautiful in every form and season.Brown eyes make me think of Devil's cake, taunting and tempting, curtained by black lashes, the symbol of rich seduction.When brown eyes delve in love, they become the color of a leather book, promising a story of loyalty, long-life, and devotion.Your brown eyes remind me of mysterious secrets, dark to cover the pain of ignorance, opaque to cover to want of another.Brown eyes are like the stable ground, steadier and prepared to embrace you when you fall, into a nurturing a
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one. When she cries herself to sleep six out of seven nights a week you must say nothing. You must simply take her in your arms and kiss her gaunt, pale cheeks and wait for her to slumber at the sound of your heart.two. On the days where she wishes she were part of the stars, tell her no. Tell her that there are too many lights in the sky and that just one would be forgotten the moment you looked away from it. Tell her that she is perfect the way she is: completely human.three. Don't let her think about the scars that no one but her can see. If she says "I think I'm broken" smile like you know a secret and say, "No, you're mending." But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
FallingFalling angelCome to meI need something that I can believeOr I’ll turn from every vowCome to me if you still know howI’ve gotten tired of all my restless daysHolding a coal black suitcaseAs I fall from graceAs I keep on breaking downCome to me if you still know howI’ve tried to tell you but don’t know howEvery smile flips upside downI’ve been a freakshow in a one joke townSo come to me if you still know howChange is coming in it’s justso damned hard to seeI’ve still got all the demonsDemons still haunting meTaunting meWanting meFalling angelComfort meHelp me find the way to my feet'Cause I just keep stumbling on downI can’t keep myself from falling downSo come to me if you still know howI’ve tried to tell you but don’t know howEvery smile flips upside downI’ve been a freakshow in a one joke townSo come to me if you still know how
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
land of the envied.there’s a cross inked down the flat plane of his back,one thick line of black punctured by the jut of bone,but a shrug of fabric later and that’s all gone –was it ever really there in the first place?the lone paper bag in the corner of the roomhas wrinkles all over its front and back,trademark symbols of wisdom and serenity –gone through mass production and rough hands.a still body of water slowly clouds over in the tub,the temperature warm enough to fight away goosebumpsbut cold enough for you to want to sink into it and never rise –one slow trickle is all it takes for empty gaps to fill up over time.a three-legged chair supporting its own lopsided weight ona pile of ashes that will never feel fire ever again.constellations reflect light down towards the masses and look pretty –but that’s all they’ll ever be.things are always beautiful when they’re doomed,when they have an expiration date, when they’re sure t
.you’ve got the heart of a lionin a glass chest
swallow the universedecay remembers you --fever breath and ocean-eyed ghosts,secrets that smoke with poison desire.we wake only to drink, to devourthe naked voices of dismantled stars.glass kisses turn into granite lipsand pillars of salt; a haunted embracemelts into the cracks of the universe.
.He nestles acornsin the crookbehind my ear,crawls into my collarboneto mound pine needlesbetween myhead and heart.I hope he'llspend his nights here,secrets kept safe in me.
The Farmers SonWe sat sipping grappa as the storm clouds rolled in from the ridgeslike the smoke from some great unseen inferno,the wood walls and shingles of the house complained to usin low groans,of the wind coming up hard, through the valley,and there was flickering light from a candle,and she told me how light from a prism dissects into different colours that correspondin some way to our bodies and that all of life was a rhythmand I believed that part,and I believed there were stars beyond the sight of man on any grey dayand that they might hold some greater secret than prisms or rhythmsor any question a farmers son could ever mutter, and the wind slowed to a stillnessand the rain moved in and our voices gave wayto what my Father would call The Lords Music,the pitter-patter of wateron the dry and flaking earth.
UnusualUp to datewith crossing outnumbers.