“If I can infect even one person with hope, I’m a success.”

The universe sits upon her tongue, and there’s me, a cosmonaut with ambition.

“I drink alcohol hoping to quiet the fire in my head, all the while forgetting that shit’s flammable.”

“I want to see the laughs your face has collected next to your eyes in the last ten years. I want, so much, the braille your skin has been saving for my fingers to read all this time. ”

Everything dies a little in winter.

A decade after the HURRICANE broke the levees, highlighting THE MODERN AGE where nothing’s changed and apathy sallies forth like a cavalry through a kindergarten, here comes a NIGHTCALL to send me back to the days before the storm, where all I did was CRAVE YOU, and the RIDE into the city, and the different smells, and different streets, hoping to sync DIFFERENT PULSES to the same beats; beats to FALL IN LOVE to, beats by THE GHOST OF CHRISTOPHER WALLACE (who, if he had to die, I wish he’d died from a TWILITE SPEEDBALL instead of having holes pistolled through him, but I digress…) Biggie as a GHOSTWRITER for the Wu - a SHAOLIN SATELLITE, if you will - is a dream. But dreams are not TRUTH. The fact is, my HEART SKIPPED A BEAT somewhere along the way. It festered to GET FREE and get busy with the BIZNESS of being alone. A SWEET & BITTER life, this kind of life has been. I’d love to be able to pontificate from ARMCHAIRS, having had the astute knowledge of going IN FOR THE KILL, and coming out a survivor with a FLOWER in my mouth and your name forever on my breath. Alas, it seems this life keeps PASSIN’ ME BY for the who? THE WHAT? The where? It’s like I’m playing the match a MAN DOWN, my curiosity a JAILER who keeps me locked away from the prize. Sometimes, in dreams, I step outside of my body, look inward, and ask WHO DID THAT TO YOU? If I came from the sea, it would surely be ANENOME, but - more likely - I’m simply a TIN MAN lacking the circulatory equipment of a NORMAL PERSON. The ones who abstain from the urge to BURN THAT BROKEN BED we made, and instead propagate it like JOHNNY APPLESEED… 

 So now it’s ASSESSMENT time. In order to REIGN over a memory bank with less cello-rich raindrops for the RABBITS QUARTET to plod through, whilst the bus rolls along the streets of KETTERING, Ohio, where lusty SERPENTS forever invade the dreams in my SLEEPYHEAD, there is but one path. I must block out the world that has been built around my nature. I must set my EYES ON FIRE and gain the knowledge that LOVE IS BLINDNESS. I must forget the temples in the jungles of the Yucatan that were built to stargaze by those who deified nebulas while holding to the belief that DEATH IS THE ROAD TO AWE. And I must embrace the reality that the bus has just passed the third COMBINATION PIZZA HUT AND TACO BELL in an hour. But really, must I?

Wanna go off grid?
End up wine drunk; in love?
Am I making sense?

Moons are sun beacons
Shining light to keep us from
Feeling so alone.

You left, but you’re still here.