#236 (living stone)

the distant rumble of the waking giant concrete feet stretching away as the last thaw is melting into the cracks of burst asphalt a yawning as loud as thirty trains leaving the station and though my ears hurt I'm marveling at the prospect of a bright day thousands of ants like me readying themselves to … Continue reading #236 (living stone)


#160 (gigantic silverball)

gigantic silverball watcher over the crowds the busy and lazy likewise let them eat cake and fries shit or mud your stoic gaze never changes although you get polished from time to time nothing escapes your view as you silently guard the marching of the masses uncaring, ungiving your cold stare  piercing my heart   … Continue reading #160 (gigantic silverball)

#123 (kisses to the gutter)

  I shaped a brick from toxic waste oozing through the commentary of a redundant conversation I tried fitting it into the wall quietly hoping it would stick and make it fall whereabouts unknown the sea took all its tolls the fare was measured heavily fat cats gave birth to trolls inside the fortress waving … Continue reading #123 (kisses to the gutter)

#88 (seven stops)

  trapped between disgust and compassion watching him sway and spray his heavy perfume of sweat and booze the girls with the pigtails bags full of trash disguised as dresses princesses of fake silver and fake smiles wrinkling pink noses not fake yet the guy with the wavy black mane changing seats in a  rush … Continue reading #88 (seven stops)

#82 (murdering moments)

  witholding every single thought letting them pool inside their pale bone cage sharks circling within my mindwaves biting a sudden flash of inspiration a dead old moviestar brought back to life the blessings of celluloid a waning dream I saw fleeing around the corner when all the streets where paved with tears and the … Continue reading #82 (murdering moments)

#69 (dark spots on white cloth)

eerie calm induced by the dense  fog filling up the city and my lungs cold grey particles leaving a wet question mark on an old tree trunk forgotten like everything else that got lost in the mist sawn off and discarded a relic of the emerald age dark spots on white cloth sparrows flocking on … Continue reading #69 (dark spots on white cloth)