montreal street fashion: The Mountain that Trembles in his Sleep.

montreal street fashion: The Mountain that Trembles in his Sleep.:

"Blueberry Lake, Labelle, QC I miss the alleyway days of the old youth.Though no actually pavement was in sight, gliding t..."

Possibly "The Best Man"

Parts of a poem i wrote the other night:

VI.

Fancy we're at a church

we can always rent a hearst

when i get her so drunk

she pukes on the whore

who killed me summer before

and now in a gown

made of crustal and brown

delighted to be escorted

how much did he pay

to have his way

and make a daughter..

VII.

The time has come

to cut the cake and the crown

girls gather down

i'll take another round

i need the liquor

to drown out the sounds

like fighting beasts

entrapped in the heat

and bury him in the sand

life out the window

with your fading libido

library only vip card in your wallet.

bring may flowers

the rain today
wash my sins away
pour the wine
your blood, my chastise.

Concordia University Passes New Policy Requiring Vegan Food

Concordia University Passes New Policy Requiring Vegan Food

Bianca.

she is ready

sitting with tea in her cup

pearls in her hand

rain fighting her on the window

she is ready

sun cast low

candle lit

one last stroke of hair

she is ready

lips not smeared

dress bouncing off her tears

he far not near

she is ready

bracelets on her pillowcase

shoe spinning on the ground

bathtub already cold

she is ready.

ready to fall

ready to let him win.

ready.

she is already.

Bored in Class.

It clouded my judgement

like a suffocating fog

dancing downward

blocking you from view

bellowing my head down

eyes almost asleep

avoiding the traffic

that surrounds all around me

under a bridge

it clears away

you're sitting over there

frozen in time

a puff of smoke

in a soundless hand

legs crossed

a do not enter sign

as i move on foward

blind sheet of white

clothes pins working in the summer

wind pushing me back

a sign for another

i reach your path

cigarette left on the ground

stained red for me

a kiss for the damned.

Hills Like White Elephants

Tonight our words are forming boundaries, coercing us into this silhouette of blatant fiction. It wavers. Oh, just then you threw your arms around me effectively inducing Looking Glass derived refractions.

So don't wait for us. The season's perfect. Hold on, be still. The shadow's coming. And we'll sing, we'll sing like murderers in choirs. When we shelter these infractions I'm in love. The curvature of prose completes us. There's no substance in our lungs.

But now this condescending grandeur will seize our rhetorical cries. I'm here my sweet Madeline. And write me off like I'm a child I've used up my newness in stride. I'm here my sweet Madeline. Because the infraction in decency accents your perception of what we imply, you fabricate your affections tonight. And your makeshift compassion's affectively placed when it suits you and their compliments seem to run dry. I'll be your default tonight. So take my kindness as a weakness; I am benign. But still I'll hold on. I'll hold on!

You are the consummate motion of dilated inhibitions. Improve your net worth by negating your constraints. You're the malevolent rupture in collective progression. I am your sense of achievement. I'm a fallback, I'm your failures, but you are the one I would die for

The Stiletto Formal, From Masochism In The Place Of Romance

Rave - 'Legalize Marijuana' Bill Moves Forward

Rave - 'Legalize Marijuana' Bill Moves Forward

a great article on California's step towards legalization ...

thought it boggles me that pot is clsoer to legalization than gay marriage in the liberal state.

bet most of those stoner would agree with gay marriage, not care, or go into an hour long itellectual debate on how corrupt the government is.

Ring of Fire

just an insert from one of the novels i'm working on:

My hands were red. I've never seen much blood outside the film screen. I should be nauseous, scared. I was enlightened, high. My heart racing with delight. I couldn't keep my eyes of of it, her. It was warm like a bundle of wool blankets on the coldest night of winter. A puddle of wine kicked over by mother stumbling over too reach the blaring sound of the telephone that never rang. She looked up at me, mouth wide in shock. Almost erotic the way her lip quivered though her heart had already stopped beating. It was so silent here except for the curious rodents coming to investigate in hopes i'd leaver her here and they could indulge in midnight feast. Sometimes i feel tired of holding her hand but i couldn't let go. she was now a part of me. eyes glazed maybe from earlier drinks, maybe not. This is my first dead body. i've seen frozen animals, and tortured the house pets of those who annoyed me. but nothing was as real as touching the cool skin of one you erased. The alley shined red making the aura around us seem pink like a graphic novel come to life. She was dressed for success not a business woman not a dancer. Probably bored to death..death...in an office the way her hair ended in a tight bun, just trickles of hair grazing her face. Brunette, ageing gracefully but faster than she intended. She was porcelain now, losing the rosey cheeks she may have been known for. I waited until she was completely cold. i didn't know what to do with her.

Did i leave her here to rot? or

take her home and show her what her life could have been like?

Maybe this is what they call a conscience?

maybe not?