The Living Journal Archive

I remember carrying that backpack in case I was stranded and now I carry it so he won’t be.

I don't know how to love without disappearing, but i'm starting to wonder if the anger is the part of me that still remembers how to play.

The never- ending slice of pizza nod my head and stay

It was in my coffee so I drank it -and the pen started avoiding it. so I let it.

I pause the story and nothing tells me who I am.

there is a lump in my throat, my heart and a weight that flattens my spirit. On the hippity hop- waiting until dark. pillows to the window like stones in a river- dont make the floor board creek-but get to the window so you can watch for him.

Describing the underpainting of my latest piece.

I don't want to disapear anymore On a couch in the thunderstorm alone, bewildered, confused the deer frozen dust in the tail lights. Helpless. Be. Good. so they don't leave. Don't speak. so they stay kind. In the back studio. when the dragon broke through the veneer and rage wanted me like a dog devouring his toy. Freedom slipped into the night like a ghost without a candle. me-there- holding the echoes of who I once was. I hide in the underbrush of logic and reason. Its a ho