Monthly Archive: October, 2012


Now I know why we’re not together: I stand in the middle, shouting, cigarette between my ring finger and pinky, ordering chaos to orbit around; you, you sit at the corner, Michael Buble… Continue reading

ecstacy taking over (again)

white socks, peeking trepid ‘tween cut jeans and green Chucks, the face sewn on its pure fabric taunts my- self as my eyes pretend absentmindedly to dart in its direction;   his white… Continue reading