Category: scribbles

So here’s the problem. You’ve been training for pain management since you were fourteen and learning how to express your feelings in new ways. Technological advances like razors and parker pen clips on the back of a yellow school bus. But you’ve graduated since then. Twice. You’ve moved on. You’re not angry, you’re not pained…

window lights are city stars that have led me here – awaystars that carry, stars that mend; city stars never sway.i peer across city stars; behold the city of Roamthrough car windows i see stars; above green stars pointing home.these stars are where my trust was born; these stars will carry throughbut soon the stars…

he was staring into space and as the minutes crept by in red digistyle, the space became filled with the stuff he was trying to block out with the soft hum of radio static behind his ears. he was possessed by a wave of worry and a series of sharp stabs of discomfort to his…

I want to make you cry. I want you to see it so you can feel pain and pleasure. I’m a reckless driver, I speed by on the highway home. I’m going in the opposite direction of home, it takes a minute to figure it out but that sky isn’t there for nothing. More than…

So I wonder sometimes about where all this Israel stuff comes from anyways. This is from circa 5 years ago? ———————– ‘Jerusalem, your holy city,’ It was when I sang those words that my eyes gave way to tears. How odd, I thought, why at these words? I realized why. Next year most of my…

sometimes i get delusional. meaning, i hear the heavy step of my dad coming home after a long day of work. meaning, it’s 11 pm and i hear the door creak shut and the heavy steps of those clunky shoes, one with a foot and one with a half-foot and a brace. meaning, it’s time…

“yo, what’s your deal?” “what? i don’t really have a deal; i just don’t have anything anymore, for her, you know?” “but what changed that?” —what changed that? do you wanna go through all of that?— “she’s been doing what she’s been willing for the past few months; i made no sound about it, i…

everday, you’re life is in someone else’s hands. actually, millions of hands – your bus drivers’, the drivers cruising around you, the subway handlers’, the traffic light programmers – for starters. it’s a rough and delicate balance that we don’t much think about – maybe because it’s so big and vast – are we supposed…