Friday, December 20, 2013

The Label.

You called the depths you explored, the meanings I found "a project." Now, all the moments I had seem like a score.
And suddenly the sea has no sky to reflect.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

The Playlist

I shuffled
The poison,
The antidote,
The cocktail

It meant
You
On Repeat.

Monday, December 2, 2013

The Phantom Bypass

I see you've engineered a new tear-drop, flawless in its structure, rich in its appeal, and with programmed beeps for the right hour; and the way gravity pampers it, almost real. Do you know that “almost” is not a thin line, to those who’re not as obvious as gravity? I could be fooled, again, denying the sincerest of doubts that are too strait-laced to be awed by the beauty of a lie. Or I could contradict the plausibility on display, create two poles, and rise above the platitude. We could be two people buying each other’s lies. Or we could be two highways selling our own ways.

Either way, truth isn't a label you get when you cry to prove your point.