Tuesday, December 30, 2014


My words were drowned in the mid-evening clinking of voices and cocktail glasses. The candle on our table flickered. When change happens, it breaks you wide open. It felt so damn good to be broken.


I said, “You’re like a bad habit I want to break all over me.”  I want you to throw me against the wall.  Press into me.  I want to break and I want to cut myself on the sharp edges.  I want scars.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014


There’s a shirt in my suitcase that I keep meaning to burn but I'm afraid of fire.  I want to break something just to see if it’s everything it’s cracked up to be.  I wake up and tell myself that it can always get worse.  When I was little I thought success meant talking in a British accent.  I love you like I used to set my clocks—ten minutes ahead of time.