Tag Archives: prose
He wanted to be Kurt Cobain, except Cobain was already gone, and he was still here, though he didn’t want to be. He made me his muse, I didn’t want to be, but I was. So I played my piano, … Continue reading
“Love is a Dog from Hell” (by Charles Bukowski), was the book you had once given to me. I always thought your title choice ironic, since we were strictly platonic, was there something I didn’t see? And you’ll never (EVER) … Continue reading
It’s my fault we ran into each other last month, I Jedi mind tricked you. you’d probably like to know that, being the most narcissistic person i’ve ever met. We shook hands, you smiled, that stupid adorable smile. I hate … Continue reading
I am unable to write, not a good sign, especially at this, particular moment in time. I’ve been scribbling down rhymes, hating each one more than the next, considered going Carrie Bradshaw on your asses, and start blogging about sex… … Continue reading
Blinded by Bukowski, temporarily, instead of pen, i’ll write in pencil, to ensure my words are me.