you're a new fire that makes me forget my old flames a secret I'm burning with while I smoke your cigarettes and listen to you sleep after you begged to keep me up all night after the flames go out it's still warm in your room you're a secret I'm burning to tell you're a secret that keeps me warm you're my warm little secret.

{wolf's bane}

he put on the clothes
so the shepherds would feed him
and give him a place to sleep

occasionally they asked
[in accurate suspicion]
"Are you sure that you're a sheep?
it's just that
your eyes shine so sharp and your wool hurts to touch
I mean;
I won't mind if you are
I'd just like to confirm
So I know to be careful
and take the precautions
to keep myself safe
and sleep out of your reach"

But he'd just say "No
I can see why you'd think that~I get it a lot,
I'm just a misunderstood
and a hurt little sheep"

and cast a wounded look that strummed at their heartstrings
and the shepherds felt bad
for casting suspicion
so that when they were bitten
their wounds all hurt more
with the sting of surprise
and the ache of his lies

they compared their scars
and noted the patterns
felt foolish for giving him somewhere to sleep
they left him alone
with his patterns and pallor;
masquerading as valour

using his teeth to dig himself leagues and leagues deep
setting his snare
and a net in the air
and a big snap tooth trap
for the wolf that cries sheep

I was never one to hurt or harm
that was the only thing that ever I had really
then it was as easy as tripping over
I tripped over

and fell

my hurt
hate and
heart
are never apart.

harmony of... overwhelming and collective murder

"Taking a close look at - at what's around us there - there is some sort of a harmony. It is the harmony of... overwhelming and collective murder. And we in comparison to the articulate vileness and baseness and obscenity of all this jungle - Uh, we in comparison to that enormous articulation - we only sound and look like badly pronounced and half-finished sentences out of a stupid suburban... novel... a cheap novel. We have to become humble in front of this overwhelming misery and overwhelming fornication... overwhelming growth and overwhelming lack of order. Even the - the stars up here in the - in the sky look like a mess. There is no harmony in the universe. We have to get acquainted to this idea that there is no real harmony as we have conceived it. But when I say this, I say this all full of admiration for the jungle. It is not that I hate it, I love it. I love it very much. But I love it against my better judgment. "


If I could only ever listen to one thing for the rest of my life it would be Werner Herzog talking.

bad grammar blues

from island to isolation
wading through agony and anticipation
my eyes are the cracked underneaths of glass jarsleakingjust keeping leakingthey used to could stopbut now it seems they won't;corroding everythingno cleansing nocrystallising
but clogging
sluggish
stunted
shunting things further away; middle distance...advancing...creeping...off...
to the horizon...everything is stilted...brain fogging up like a car windshield's inside by teenagers' fucking.numb brrr; nothing's coming but the coldand all I have to look forward to is when the cold stopsand my brain and heart start workingand my soul comes back.