I made myself one of these and I don’t care what anyone says, I’m never going back.

With compelled thumbs
Preparing to describe
What goes on behind my eyes
But nothing comes.

In the end I was the mean girl
Or somebody’s in-between girl
Now it’s the devil I love
Neko Case, The Fox Confessor Brings the Flood (2006), “Hold On, Hold On”
Chinese Mai Tais and the Truth About San Francisco

You and me,
Like I had always wanted
Atop skinny buildings
Sitting at an uneven table
As the restaurant closes
And you say,
"Have you ever drank
so much absinthe in your life?”
And I try to reply
But my lips are stunned
And crippled
And stung like a
Chubby hand stuffed
In a wasp’s nest
At summer camp.
And you point to next door
And say, “That’s where
Ginsberg published his poems.”
And I still can’t talk
Because it’s too cliche.
The waitress wipes our table
As if asking us to go
On our way home,
Or back to the smelly
Club in chinatown
Where there are no ‘last calls’
Or back to the alley
Where I cried in your arms
And smelled your old spice
And told you I hated you
For looking at another girl
And giving up on me
Again and again.

There’s shit particles on it.
Drunk 20somethings in regards to a dirty bus seat




if you know each of these commercials you just might be canadian



It is too late for throwback Thursday but here is a thing I found on my phone.

It is too late for throwback Thursday but here is a thing I found on my phone.

I crashed your stolen car in my dream
to get back at you for years of silence.
But the years were just seconds to you,
buzzing and humming.
You’re bored with the daiquiris of your 20s,
left the bar alone and unquenched.
That’s how you wreck a man’s heart:
with carelessness, not lack of skill.