You Are My One And Only (chance at not being one and only)

Spare me the razor and silver linings, I've never been one for spills I couldn't still and stare over with a blue-mooned eye. After all, I am a prophet in the thoughtless. Give me a gesture you meant as nonchalant and I'll read between it like the...

Coyote Diaries #1

"Rudy. You remember Rudy," He asked in a sort of statement. "Short guy, with the blue and yellow motorcycle over by (unintelligible)." A soft silence of clippers and the dull silence of a car drumming by answered. "With the blue motorcycle." He...

I'm Not Sorry You're A Shitty Boyfriend

We were six deep off the deep end of Soho between good old reliable MacDougal and Boulevard of Broken Dreams. We were on West 4th Street and that song was popular at the time, is what I mean to say, but it'd have been pretty boring if I said it...

Get Busy Regretting (Or Live Fine Not Remembering)

"Her name was Destiny, and she's been mine ever since." New York was restless as ever that Fall. The dull, grey concrete hung around her face as a fog and veil while lampposts lurched like waxing candles, blurred and flickering to the gusts of 4...

He Looks So Stupid On Facebook Anyway

That night was us and the strange scent of hello drifting on the mint of a tide corroding the shore. She left me to walk a beam, some remnant of a dock we'd never care or come to know. Her arms were straight and steady by her side, like a gymnist on...

I'm-mortal

I've known death as I've known love, intimately, through only deep and fleeting glimpses. Always on the brink of that sweet release, some breadth or fall I can't describe will elude to remove that absolute finality and embrace. Yet again I'm left...

Ex Cineribus Resurgam, Mother Fucker.

Very few have had the privilege of witnessing the beauty of a breakdown. When I was twelve a building in my neighborhood caught fire and burned all the way from midnight into the early morning. It stood red and violent against the sky, though from my...

This One Is For You

Most people, when they tell a story, they never tell it right. They’ll rush through it, fumbling along way, just dying to get it over with like a virginity. Or they’ll laugh as they talk, really stacking on the expectation, and when the punch line...

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I’ve noticed a characteristic trend in the writers I’ve had the tragic privilege of meeting this past year, whether in social events or through digital networks such as Thoughts.com or Tumblr: this subtle but very obvious frantic desperation for...

It's Not Me, It's You.

I refuse to accept the idea that individuals can, and supposedly do, "fall out of love." It's outrageous to think it can simply fade away or be cast aside on whim or circumstance. Love should bloom, blossom, pollinate, ignite, smolder, fester like a...

Fuck Yesterday, Yes-to-today

I once had a tendency to trap memories of past loves, encasing them in glass like souvenirs, exhibited in the wide-narrow halls of nostalgia up high atop romantisized pedastals far from the reach of my own hand or even Gods. One disenchanted drunken...