Harry & i

the old house
antique sleep, white
painted dreams
oh, up in the great sky
         where I swallowed so much time
oh, I’m someplace else
i believe all the signs
like we ever met
         thru the mirror
         behind the black veil
         over the line
                   in my life
                   pink smoke, mold
                   mold, mold
                   i’m sick now,  i’m cryin’
it’s hard to remember
Harry & i
every morning
in the driveway
in the parking lot,  high
i know you’re coming thru, I see
the highway breeze catch the
petticoats of trees, I see
your seafoam fingers wash on by. 

i’m always dreamin of the old house where you died.



Only the rich
Allowed sleep
Would bargain for more
All the beggars
Didn’t care what they asked for
only the lonely
Sold their souls to closed doors

The faces of void
Could look in the mirror
And the relentless others
Always offended
And confused
Existent only on the
Basis of images.
Faces in commercials..
Four walls: the film set:
Your home.
Their idea.

Which side of the river
Are you on?
Does it have
glass walls?
Do you notice?
Are you acting?
Do you care?

The street of the fool
A notion of nothing
From the truth formed through fear
A dream about someone
So hidden in skin
Im kissing a mem’ry in time
Only perception,
Real nowhere.

We’re all victims of our minds
And I’m wondering
How far away mine will slay me.

The clock turned it’s back,
Disguise myself senseless
For an old friend
That I hate.


i had this old hollywood style dream- this guy was holding me and i was leaning back looking into his eyes. it was framed like an old movie where we were both in this staged embrace, wind blowing, 3 point lighting, kind of facing the “camera” which was my dream eye, and he said passionately, “I just know you’re mad about me!” and i was like, “oh yes i am absolutely mad about you Charles you know i am i just cannot hide it!” and we kissed, i woke up, still absolutely mad about “Charles.”

all of the Charles’s in my life, that i fall in love with, are never actually Charles. I’m the only fucking Charles i know. they are different people, and i am falling in love with myself, and breaking my own heart when their reality does not match my fantastic imagination.

i love you, Charles, i am absolutely mad about you- i’ll always love you.

Sugar sugar

I’m going to try to describe to you this sensation I can’t describe to myself:

It’s similar to the feeling of being in a lucid dream

Looking at things glitching in and out of reality/ expectation

First of all, these are some things that evoke the sensation:

– TV shows portraying nuclear families—desperate housewives! 
– the sims
– lsd
– when Jim puts Dwights stapler in jell-o
– the diner in twin peaks
– diners in general
– fake food
– fake money
– commercials
– movies and film in general

I think it has to do with representation
And “life” and things that are iconically
REGULAR/basic. reduced to simplest form. Images that look like fucking candy coated ideology. That’s why it was so good that agent cooper drank black coffee.
Do you get it?
that’s what it is. Ok


There is a part that can never be touched, is always the same, has always been there – an honest center, thru all of the changes and mind alterations, binges and small deaths…. all physical reactions are outside of it, consuming the constant thoughts and decisions.
Balancing out the days, stretching through the time, balancing with the sunlight, breeze driftin on by, u know how I feel, it’s a new dawn,
it’s a new dream
in, in, closer, closer,
KNIVES ripping through me cryin
only a dream

Karma Crypt

Saturday night
I say I will poison myself, delicately. Then it becomes violent- here I am out, there he is, over there, right now, with a girl. the other one- another girl, i imagine, it’s been a week, it’s been two weeks, three weeks. no, the whole time. I’m drunk, in leather. lied again, pleather. Stab me. Laughing on the phone. Laughing! I waved my hand, oh heavens i couldn’t possibly! Start over. Just to see you there. I’m imagining the other entirely, but I’m always right about these things. So I disappear, delicately,
not like you.