So, I kinda sorta live in this place called, Heaven on Earth, in the Brandywine Valley. If I thought that this last year was over the top, things are about to get downright interesting now. First night at the Thornbury Farm House, circa 1709, and I’ve already heard gunshots out in the field where the […]Read More Thornbury Farm House.
We smoked them ’til their blood ran warm as the honey calmly sedated our nerves like oozing caramel melting on simmering tongues that spoke only of melodious things as it slithered down throbbing throats meant to turn and close like switch blades on lies, only to open harmoniously within the cadence of wings beating to […]Read More Pressure.
No matter where I turn, it’s all a mother fucking lie. Everyone is so full of shit it sickens me. It enrages me. I really thought you were the last person in my life who wasn’t. But it turns out it’s a mother fucking Monkey. Ya know, I took the goddamn meds because I can’t […]Read More Maybe.
“I’m reaching equilibrium without them, ya know … the Pseudo-Gods.” “Equilibrium was always best reached alone.” “My heart doesn’t even hurt enough anymore to cry out that this isn’t fair.” “Hence, your state. Your peace. Your space.” “That’s how it all started, ya know.” “What?” “Space.” “How so?” “I was alone in an abyss. Floating […]Read More Equilibrium | Audio & Visual Interpretation.
Where We Once Roamed – Elizabeth Levine These people aren’t my family and these steps don’t take me home, to the top of the hill where I reign down on my kingdom where I once roamed. They were ghosts at best, with routine whittling at their bones. I have no hour in which to […]Read More Where We Once Roamed – Audio Visual Interpretations. Happy Easter!
“I’m convinced I don’t want you on the road trip with me this time.” “Why is that?” “Because you’ll control everything and I have my own set of records, thanks.” “But who’s going to record you?” “The noose around your neck.”Read More Noose.
There was a low roar coming from out beyond the railroad tracks that had long since seen their day. Over-grown bush, thistles and weeds choked its stakes as if they were the only living things left that cared enough to hold on to its memory. “I remember a few months back wishing that this train […]Read More Low Roar.