January 2011
7 posts
I’m listening to Phantogram and I’ve run out of alcohol. I’m looking for something to say. I haven’t been to work lately, mostly because I don’t have a job. But at least the weather’s been nice, really nice. 70s nice. People are rushing to the park and the beach, it’s been nice. Unfortunately I’ve spent the last few days in bed, because I’m...
“Too weird to live, too rare to die.”
– Hunter S. Thompson.
This Poem is not a Poem.
This Poem is not a Poem. It stopped rhyming a few stanzas ago. and has forgotten what it means to be a poem. The lines stumble from verse to verse, and follows no poetic rhetoric. This poem isn’t for the heartbroken or for the dreamers. Nor do they want this poem. This poem doesn’t wonder what it is, nor does it want to be anything, Because. This Poem is not a Poem. by.Edmund
facebooked
1: I want to go somewhere.
2: Anywhere is somewhere.
re-up
henrycharlesbukowski:
the dark is empty; most of our heroes have been wrong
Charles Bukowski
“the future. I see it! It’s right in front of you. AHHHH.”
“I feel like I just tripped over 2010 and stumbled onto 2011.”