i put my cinders to sleep, and watched the remaining smoke billow out around my fingers. I prayed for any sentiment which i could not describe as contempt.

the in betweens.

inside me there is a foreign silence, and endless space. i fill it with momentary paper thin things, meaningless monuments. i try to blame it on youth, amounting my actions to transitional postings.  but it becomes difficult keeping the same excuse, and no action is left without it's countering reaction. and my lungs itch, and i feel sore, and i feel my mind blurring and twisting. i do nothing i look into a mirror and train myself to say, only a little bit more. 

my sentiments exactly.

real-life photoshop.

fall.

the intake of crisp fall air stung my lungs as i sat on my balcony three stories up. I watched the leaves in the trees making their transition from green to yellow, to orange, and to red, silently wishing that everything that were dying looked just as beautiful in its last moments. I heard the birds calling to one another in the distance, as they trained themselves into Vs and rapidly beat their wings south. I wanted to go with them simply to fulfill the curiosity of knowing how far they make it.

falling sleep.

my son che.

shower scenes

incredible.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y78FztTd414

sometimes I dream, 

I dream I'm floating on the surface

of my own life, watching it unfold, 

as a spectator.

not the player.

Bukowski

I was the lover. and i cared but what i cared for was dead.

To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be
young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage
to love.

i need to burn my phone.

Mom..

When in Rome..

what?

The Art of Drowning

Nostalgia Reruns