I've been feeling like drawing again.
This is a problem for writing.


Tell me things you want to hear.

The fork is a rib
and my god; your face
is somewhere on
some other pillow drooling
and satisfied. Blank
as a bus stop.

Tell me again.
The most beautiful dream is either of nothing or of emptiness.

I am obsessed with space, location, communication, and how we define ourselves and the meaning of it all. Every conversation I've had with people lately makes me feel like walking wouldn't ever be enough because we'd just end up getting somewhere anyway.