Driving through the night from Denton to Chicago for this to make dreams come true for a weekend.
Reykjavík, Iceland’s capital city.
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I lent my face for a fantastic new portrait series by Trey Wright. Check out more of his work at http://treywright.tumblr.com/
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"Forgiveness is for anyone who wants a safe passage through my mind.
Forgiveness is the release of all hope for a better past. ”
Ever since I heard this three years ago, I have enjoyed myself a lot more in social situations and been a more consistently upbeat person. I just now realized this.
I guess that is what taking something to heart really becomes.
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The night you surrendered to your demons and deleted the exorcist’s number from your phone.
When you hid inside my walls because you “wanted to hear me exist”.
When you screamed your dream at me before you had time to forget it
and when you punched me in the face because I didn’t wake up fast enough to hear it.
The night I held the door open for you and you fell asleep in the frame to test my dedication to chivalry.
The night you swerved all over the road to show how drunk with love you were and you ruined someone’s picket fence.
That time you paid for dinner and didn’t tip the waiter.
The day you poured bleach in the dishwasher because you couldn’t find the detergent. No.
The noodle incident.
of a broken bicycle.
"Your work ethic" said
"Your marriage" said
"Your childhood" said
"Life left behind" said
the voice inside of him.
His wife said
picked up her purse,
and left for work.
I set my compass south and started my engine before daylight broke my focus.
I passed through the death penalty headquarters and slept at the colossal shoes of Sam Houston for a few hours when the sun caught up to me.
The closer you get to the Gulf of Mexico, the more Texas boasts about possessing palm trees:
50 miles out and you can see the struggling tropicals hunching over in plastic pots outside of every nook and diner.
The air is salty today.
A gray lady justice stands guard over the primary intersection of Galveston, Texas.
She faces north - away from the chaos of the ocean.
The sea knows nothing of justice.
I make my way down to the revealingly named Seawall Blvd in hopes of a soft place to sit.
I find an entire beach worth of cushion.
I submerse myself in Poseidon’s insolent children.
Their waves. Their rage.
They swallow me and their salty spit blinds me for all that my vision is worth.
Blinking helps only a little.
I wonder how sailors deal with it.
The couple sitting nearest to me are infatuated with one another.
They share spliff after spliff before making love in the tides.
A nervous lifeguard is whistle-blowing his guts out
because they are inching closer and closer to the forbidden swim zone.
I wonder if he really believes that they might be unknowingly pulverized against jagged rocks at the expense of their passionate continuation.
His lungs must be shot by now.
I could tell him to relax
but I’d rather let it go.
Things like these
are best left
You are a storm shelter buried beneath the sea.
You are bird houses abundant in the branches.
These basements we make for ourselves serve as blankets
to the world outside we want to forget.
We could spend a spend a century constructing cathedrals from the confidential
but will never know the hum of nodding off to sleep unless we lay down our chisels.
Save the labor for another day.
I never meant to fall apart so easily
I didn’t mean paint you something dangerous.
You have tornado country
into the valley between your ribs
and I gave up on storm chasing years ago.
I caught the first cloud
heading the longest direction home.
I never looked back.
I never thought it would spin me in circles
and bring me back
to the past
that I haven’t lived.
When I split my knuckles open
to show you my handiwork,
you reached for bandages and told me
to get some rest.
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Tumblr’s word processor
is a piece of shit.
Learned to speak
Out of passion, we spoke
Out of necessity.
Death is not the only reason to chase survival.
I don’t want to live just to
The space cadet might
Hear only circuits buzzing for months -
Incantations of machinery breathing.
Cries calling out to jet-black heaven
Keep him company as he drifts.
By the time the wires fall silent
Under crinkled thermal sheets,
The astronaut sleeps.
Winter enters his cabin through
A crack in his carbon fiber cell and for the first time in seven months, wind whispers.
The space cadet sleeps through it all.
Emergency threat level:
Space is not for everyone.
When the silence gets too eerie,
Astronauts will press their heads against each others’ chests
Listening to heartbeats
Only so that they may hear life and
Wash away the relentless, eternal
By the time his cabin collapses under the pressure of space pushing inward, the
Astronaut has frozen - a vacuum where vital signs once were.
Call ground control.
Keep them from sending a search party; the cosmonaut finally sleeps.
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