

From the Journal of a CynicHe held her hand in the shadows, in a nanosecond of half-crazed lust. She didn't notice, or if she did she attributed it to cheap champagne and a dash of almost evaporated romantic idealism.From the Journal of a Cynic
Funny how soul mates (if you'll pardon the expression) brush past each other, never questioning the way people shuffle in and out of each other's lives. Boy meets girl, girl meets boy, boy and girl fall in love, girl realizes boy is too boyish and dumps him for a married man who advertises men's cologne and has no time for his five and a half year old daughter.
Love. It's an almost invariable idiosyncracy in the genetic sequence


The ExI tried to ignore the blood-red stain spreading inexorably across my white skirt. The maitre’d fussed about, offering me napkins and apologies by turns. With the company I was wont to keep, it occurred to me that I was a fool for not having bought shares in White King. It seemed an interminable age before the waiter finally left with a promise to bring another bottle. I asked if he could make it a dry white, this time.The Ex
I turned my attentions back to the man sitting across the table from me, forcing myself to meet his eyes. Sharp green met n


to my former self -i.to my former self -
in a dim and exhausted new york subway train - i surrender my fingerprints over to dirty railings and start over.
ii.
my body stretches like a mayan temple over his landscape. my sun drags itself across his skies to his brutal moon prowling the outskirts of our madness. he says
bend yourself to these sights, love. recognize, but never accept. i want your filthy and bruised hope on my table. he was
saturating space, says - how much do you love your world. eyes screaming alive over and over again. you can do better &nb
xo!
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an antique arms and armor expert
♥
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Hello world! I love you.
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The cityscape burns brighter by the hour.
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What's the difference between a duck? One of its legs is both the same.
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.metal.
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I tell you such fine music awaits in the shadows of the fires of hell. -Charles Bukowski
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