The stranger


It had been years since they last spoke. As they became reacquainted, her face began to darken. And at the end of it all, all he was starting was a black hole of emptiness




Cupid, if I knew the day which you pulled back hard enough on the string of your bow, I would be prepared to make sure that arrow never penetrated my heart.

I would be lying in wait, most likely put a hit out on you, no matter the cost. At least then I wouldn’t feel these feelings I feel for you

Confession to my typewriter #5


I think I am slowly beginning to understand this feeling, this anxiety from within. It feels as if my heart is itching, an itch that cannot be relieved or cured until I sit down in front of you. 

You are drawn to me, and I to you, but what is it exactly that you want from me? Do you expect great things of me? Sitting before you is the only way to cure the itch before I go mad and can no longer take it, to fight the urge of staying away

Emotional currency


It is said
that actions speak louder
than words
and at times
words speak louder than actions.
What if the words “I love you”
or “I miss you” were erased,
disappearing like sand grains
carried into the wind
never to be caught again.
It is said that talk
is cheap,
but words
still have
emotional currency
that can’t be traded
on stock markets



Everything has become so quick,
so easy,
done by the single push
of a button.
Which makes me question
what we actually do for ourselves
on this machine riddled earth
besides breathe,
shit, piss
and die
and make good fertilizer
where good trees will grow
on bad souls.
Everything has become instant
in our war against time –
instant coffee,
instant death,
brought about by a single push
of a button