i did a thing!





just some digital heaps of rotting skin. slow movements abound. sensational tunnels of slurps and sips. vacuums of death in sound.

feeding their generations of sins. with the remnants of their bowels. sucking out the life from each other’s wounds. only looking up for found pools

of bitter blood.

i knew their colors, once. i wore their logic like the proudest son. hair wild and constantly flamed. fingertips worn dry from the digging of wells. righteously long and dark. the loudest echoes quivering the walls.

and i balanced the stars and bore the strain. only to find patterns all around. lined up in perfect rows. a binary field of buckets, deceived. resonating the same hue. violating the same laws. similar breaks in the wood. chips of their colors all amounting to the bane of childhood charm.

and now, through defeat, i’ve watched them all destroy. laboring out a line between my promise and their purpose. while my city still grows. and the walls now rattle with a putrid fear. a high energy to jinx the static of their stay.

followers lining the streets.
petals defeated

and resistant to the promising light.

Church of the Friendly Ghost||Daughter Of Lady Friends: Experimental Music Salon

IMG_3121 Panorama-2
photo by: http://www.capturingmilliseconds.com/


IMG_3121 Panorama-4
photo by: http://www.capturingmilliseconds.com/

had an amazing opportunity to play a solo/experimental gig this weekend full of so many talented lady-artist friends. it’s the most confident i’ve been since i started performing on stage.


there was a moment during all of it where i was so certain about the words coming out of my mouth that i surprised myself. i have to keep going.

in search of the buried clean bottom feeders

why haven’t my sights caught on? i already know the anticipated struggle of finding a self. a climb before the jump. the antagonizing bully who’s waiting for your walk home from school. the peering hallways. the largest man. heckling your name, on your way to the stage to accept your beloved prize. his firing squad prematurely blowing their wads. the color of embarrassment splattered on the walls; the color of your skin, revealed. 

i’ve been there before. with them. my shame knew its way around. heartlessly climbing the ladder. only now seeing the ditch. of the hole we all made. hunting the innocent and buying up all the land to destroy. a life worth living.

gray streets from all the dirt the carbon copies made. 

i’m tired of myself in this city. the same routes around. a plateaued love. knowing a home. the only fears coming alive in dreams. the force of outside while i’m locking the doors from within. safely asleep. forgiving the still. 


i need to remove myself from all your perforated pasts. and your god-fearing futures, fucking time numb. 


where are the stages without any purpose? who’s got tickets to that show?