DeepThroat
There is no God and we are His prophets.
Entries 19
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alone with the owl in Something about that city let me be alone.
alone with the owls, howling “pain, pain, pain” alone with the owls howling “pain” you don’t have to live this way while i lived was i a stray black dog while i lived was i anything at all did i ...
Let me introduce you to some friends. in The Sounds That Guide The Whispers
You are my sunshine. <iframe width="560" height="315" src="//" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe> Oats in the water <iframe width="560" height="315" src="//" frameborder...
DeadAirSpace in The Sounds That Guide The Whispers
08/21/14-09/07/14 Can’t Do Without You. Caribou Archangel. Burial Lotus. Slava Left Speaker Blown. Liars Body and Soul. Thelonius Monk Algol. Dawn of the Midi Jackie Bouvier. John Matthias N...
Put the needle in deeper this time. in Something about that city let me be alone.
My girlfriend was just diagnosed with fibromyalgia. She also has a cyst on her lung. So there’s that.
Unfuck The World in Something about that city let me be alone.
Once, I was a teenager, and I believed in injustices, change, brevity, and voting. I made signs for causes and sewed them to my backpack, not even realizing how lost they became in all the band ...
Be Comfortable, Creature. in Something about that city let me be alone.
All of my childhood heroes are old. It's strange watching the tributes on the television set, a brief interview or two accenting their past accolades, thirty five second sound bites over-shadowi...
Seven AM finds the sun radiating the landscape, the heat intense and lacking passion, the mosquito's vanquish themselves scorned lovers in hopes of tomorrow's night time rendezvous with the moon....
Bath Time in All the photographs are peeling.
I don't have children, but I am a parent of a basset hound. His name is Dr. John Watson, but most of us just call him Watson. Tonight's bath was easy in the claw foot bathtub. He likes it more...
If you were to leave my house right this second, step down the front porch and follow the walkway to the right, picket fences stained yellow from the spilling light of hundred of porches would g...
So. I've got this new office. I need some strong A-type phrases to integrate into my vernacular.
I face backwards on the train that takes me within the city. Most nights, my eyes buried deep in reading, I barely notice the transition: supermarkets to convenience stores to concrete parking l...
each end looms then subsides. in All the photographs are peeling.
============== It turns out Sycamore is beautiful from the outside, and spring has sprung like a coiled viper filled with allergen venom with its heat sensors set for my nostrils. I pop Clarita...
Truths arise in illusions of order in All the photographs are peeling.
Muscles still groan in slight hesitation these months later. The day we left the city, snow fell in torrents. I backed the rental truck into the loading dock, the wrong way up a one way street,...
After slight hesitation, a large lump in my thirty one year old throat, and some lofty hopes and dreams, my incredible hard work, great fortune, and expansive, overwhelming luck have come to frui...
Walking Through Morning in Something about that city let me be alone.
This is The Bird Man. He is not homeless, but collects himself in matching ensembles, standing on the corner, attracting birds which land upon his head and shoulders. Full Moon, Dirty Heart...
A Summer sun spectacularly shone against the concrete bathed in divine white. Carefree days spent meandering in the Holy Ghost of its divine glory were common place beneath a sky so blue and ra...
The streets are littered with placards and leaflets describing Valentines Day Dinner Specials noting the most exquisite details of the items listed without spoiling the mystery the price tags car...
I wrote I and Love and You in our tiny mirror. in Something about that city let me be alone.
The mirror fogs over the glimpses I'd steal away. Standing there, glancing at her elbow, the radiant glow of light leaves my bathroom between the steam, a tumbling waterfall between the canyons ...
It doesn't rain here tonight. It mists, the way patio's and fan's keep cool the patrons of a cafe cool on a summer day. This day, it isn't summer at all. It's cold, and the wind lies still eno...
