First rule of design club is we talk about design. Second rule of design club is we talk about design. Third rule of design club is sock up on balsa. Fourth rule is design in the dark.
First rule of design club is we talk about design. Second rule of design club is we talk about design. Third rule of design club is sock up on balsa. Fourth rule is design in the dark.
Oh!
gloom enjoys Firecracker
enjoys the shaded viridian wilds of her forlorn essence
flayed and plumed in vast sizzling arrays
for sooth
gloom drinks Her in
as sweet as turpentine infused with lackadaisical honey
yearning to quench the crackling void She must consume
a-breeze on waves of tumbling prisms
tumult of spectrums
churning
in times a(some)way
gloom festers in Her absence
brooding a pathetic canary-concoction of cadaverous contrivances
and
Poof!
a face full of preposterous soot
(laughable really)
You weave your way around my molten callouses
shifting lavender and obsidian shingles
plates of sultry scarlet-slag infused with the bewitchments of father time
and as salve to a raw and riddled boil
sooth tremendously the toils of vitality
and shit
wadayaknow?
captured unaware in a shower of pixilated pixy-dust
the gloom begins to lighten
but gloom is no longer gloom
in Her illumination
and brighter yet
a malleable set
once gloom becomes shade
I just desire to color the world beside you
that was the most heart wrenching exchange of my entire life…
There is no place in this world for anything less than transcendent.
In the gibbous rose of soup
fog of the incandescent seraphim
Sweeping below
Glazed and oiled
in oxidized corrosion
Pisceries umber whiskers
raw
scratched the ashen liquid
the amber cider of Achlys
distilled
in murky pumpkin pipes
tertiary milky eye
alighting unhindered
and as quietly as the lugubrious steel trusses creak
and the shadows caressed her soot smeared and soaking face
the lake on film stood still
interrupted sepia
a crimson shard of ardour
deposited from a glass scaled fin
sprouted in the crestfallen spring scented mud
to bud and bud again
There are a lot of people in this world who hurt and stay silent about it because of how they feel they should act. I know this has been a sore subject in recent days but being heard, understood, safe and accepted are basic feelings that everyone should have a right to. Having a voice when it’s dark and hard to see as well as an open ear are exceedingly powerful tools that are so terribly understated. I just want to say thank you for everyone being supportive of me it’s made a world of difference in my life. Please keep sending good thoughts my Dad’s way. Hang in there Dad, I love you.
What I had I’ve is done and gone,
an aroma in the gossamer fingers of a emerald spring breeze,
that lingers,
twisted.
The headache in the back of my heartstrings,
a gentle reminder of what ardor I used to spin.
A lot of people write about how they’ve loved and lost,
or can’t find love at all.
Oh my love it isn’t dead,
I just no longer create it.
A hopeless unromantic.
The sickly broodish child
who crept among the umber ivy
the banestooth of crooked diluted shades
Nereid of crested putrid oxidation
sizzling on an empty sea
forever hollow
verbose
languid
yet still a wit
darkly went the bruises
plumb pricks of the sickliest
Till never-and-ever-more
despondent
downtrodden
droog
I’ve gotta write something worthwhile for once.
Something that I feel.
Deeply.
Something that I’ve been hiding.
From the people I love.
Something nontraditional.
An unknown, even from myself.
Something transitional.
Something sensational.
Something phenomenal.
Something no one has to ask for.
So here we are…
-
I’m a man
broken
depressed
anxious
sexually confused
uninformed
bleeding
hurting
and yet…
resilient.
-
I expect no treatment.
No kindness.
No love.
Just acceptance.
Because GOD damnit I deserve that.
-
It’s time that I open my mind.
For all to see.
To show the origin of imagination.
One simple word.
ME.
It’s early and I have 26 beers in the freezer, I’m freshly hurting and I could use some company. So do it!
