it’s snowing in paris it’s snowing in paris it’s snowing!

days go by
i stay without motion
hit by rinsing winds
and hours going dark

i stray (born)
i look (waxing)
i find (full)
i am in disarray (waning)
i stray (born again)

thawing my cold dark sky
with your warm inspirations

kudos to you all for staying with us, in this world, although it is painful. <3

i am both living
and past away.
my lungs still work but
i am having no air.
short of inhalation...
and of inspiration.
i cannot think up any writing at this hour.

but living is much tiring right now, and i'm only hanging on by a string.

you and i should fall into an amorous abyss. what do you say?

hi oulipians! im wishing you all a stunning day, or night. <3 ya.

i want to go sailing
on my nightmarish visions of my past
and what is coming, that i mourn
touch of dry salt on skin

why don’t you go?
why won’t you stay?
why won’t you abandon my husk out in that storm
why don’t you think
it could work?
smiting, smiling, smithing
« angst is his alias, but his companions still call him god. »

invasion of capitol shows pig and fascist solidarity. cowards.

by cosmic standards
i am so young...
as all r
and still i know loss
as all do
why is loss so fatal

living nowadays is invariably tasting as wax fruit, sucking paraffin dick—wax statuary from Antiquity slowly dripping

vanishing—a conscious look at that thing holding on for long but with rising difficulty. and a blink, a distraction, and it is away—my paramour

Show older (Mark II)

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