user since
Thu Aug 16 2007 at 09:14:00 (16.3 years ago )
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Tue Apr 5 2022 at 11:13:12 (1.7 years ago )
number of write-ups
42 - View tentative's writeups (feed)
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8 (Encyclopedist) / 14229
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tentative's horse nodes
most recent writeup
March 4, 2022
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If you want to read something, try dustfromamoth and junkpile and ToasterLeavings and iceowl and riverrun and wertperch and stand/alone/bitch and Posmella and etouffee and GhettoAardvark and Zephronias and Jet-Poop and The Custodian and BookReader and Evil Catullus and jessicaj and auspice and tandex and hamster bong and Intentions.





So this one-legged man walks into a bar
Between the Cracks For if you have nothing to read and votes to spare
Fifteen elvish ways to die The first thing I ever read here. Ever.

My summer in the vampire city
No point in mentioning the bats, I thought. Poor bastard will see them soon enough.
The demon was just under three feet tall
When the dead poets mobilize, they'll paint your picture on their planes
I still wear the bracelet you made me
It's 2 in the morning and I own the world
I am uglier than you imagine
Her body my platter, my secret her joy
I will take one ticket please to whatever you have to say please keep talking
The last foreign owned convenience store and other things that are still beautiful
Party like it's the end of the world
When we owned the world

The songs that break you down and the stories that they tell
We exist in a world of pure communication, where looks don't matter and only the best writers get laid
i remember, most of all, the places that cradled my thoughts
i walked barefoot through hell, thanks for asking
In my spare time, I enjoy the occasional murder
Right there a song became a soundtrack for this space in time
OK, so I'm a fuckup, and it's Tuesday
She favors black bras
i think i could love you
Your memories and identity are meaningless and impotent against these words.
This sentence is in Spanish while you're not looking
Having the courage to be an absolute nobody
Even things as amazing as stars burn out

Everyone is here, but you're nowhere near
I remember when it was me who made you want to take over the world and enslave humanity
Young man, I'm flattered
Confessions of a Joker

Sometimes it's 4 a.m.
Because: Context is not important. Because: My life is one long series of contexts.
Remember the dead. Fight for the living.
Every time I see a dead fish that isn't, I think of you. Happiness keeps washing over me like a wave. What do I do with it all?
The first five minutes after I wake up
January 1, 2009 (idea)
I Kissed a Girl
A man who never sees a pretty girl without loving her a little
Dear anonymous. Here is your moment.
Pink lemonade, Clementine, I don't want to leave this place without you
This place makes me embarrassed about my spelling, not my sexual deviations
This was then, and now I can't even find your grave
Or he'll just kick me in the face and scream abstract noises and dance around outside in his underwear and have sex with the neighbor's dog and try to fly by jumping off the toilet

Greed is good. Sex is easy. Youth is forever.
Please tell me everything, this means you, I am hungry and also
The angstiest poem in the world
What gets us out of bed in the morning
Questions to ask yourself on the way to self discovery
Give everything you can to everyone you know
I will always be in the details
reading a sad story backwards doesn't make it have a happy ending
Be your own fiction. After that, the story almost writes itself.
Diary of a Writer
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
Frisky, most silver, serene -- bright step at the margins of air, you tiny colossus and winsome and master me, easy in sunlight, you gracious one come to me, live in my life
The imaginary world where I make up things and they are true
The broken shadow dances on the wall
Tag, you're dead

Hunting 'twixt the bookshelves (idea)

To the three girls who stopped me today on my way to class
My regret sits on the floor like someone else's polaroid photos (person)
we will laugh as your buildings crumble, we will dance as your cities burn
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
Millions now living will never die
I wanted to write a poem that you would understand
love poem to a poet I read this so often, can I C! it again?
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
You can't see a man die hundreds of times and not think him immortal

Let it never be said I slept through it. I never sleep
last night I dreamed of dragons
She tasted like whiskey and blood and cemetery dirt.

September 19, 2007 (person)
Everyone except me is having a picnic on the moon
It's not that we're more attractive in the darkness or that one of us may be drunk
You, with your timid, half-hearted intimacies
If I tell you, ye will not believe: And if I also ask you, ye will not answer me, nor let me go.
I want to write love letters to all of my friends (idea)

Let's Meet at Starbucks
Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief They all murder their inspiration/then sing about their grief.
Wet T-shirts and hot summers: a fifteen year old's definition of love (thing)
I like this. It's pretty.
The music makes one's blood boil and long to be in some obscure, untamed place with the one you love
You meant for this node to be read by me, and I would like to respond

I will marry only he who defeats me in battle
A thousand years from now, we should have coffee and tell stories while the world disintegrates
Everything was screaming: the sea, the sky, my heart.
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
Choose your words carefully; now throw them away
I sit looking at the traffic lights. The red extinguishes the hope that the green ignites
It's always a good idea to tell people you love them if you do It really is.

There is nothing more dangerous than a bored sociopath
Though really, I'm waiting for you.
She doesn't know what he sees, but sometimes it makes his face beautiful

What I learned from the skateboarders outside my window :-)
Show me your art and I will consume even the smallest part of you, he said.
What an artist the world is losing in me!
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She left me on the boardwalk with my head held in my hands.
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him

Kiss me, you are beautiful. These are truly the last days.
a constant, low wind trembles through him, catching his words and sending them out into the world
Work within the limitations of the medium
I was supposed to be somebody by the age of 23

It's only love: at the end of the day, there are still thunderstorms and sunsets

The hand you hold is the hand that holds you down
The walls of his apartment (fiction)
The train that came to me in the dream was already a dead train
Such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand and one items

This is the time. The time was now. And now is then. This was the time.
Smoking cigarettes on a roof in the middle of winter
August 4, 2007 (log)
why she feels the irrational need to capture little fragments of glass
It's the cracked ones that let light into the world
Don't come back, don't call. Think of another way. (poetry)

Somewhere there's a god who wants me
A Toast To The Unlikeliest Of Futures
Yesterday I kissed the girl I love
November 23, 2008 Drums that were removed when WhiskeyDaemon left.
Denied an existence as beautiful and unique snowflakes
You give me wings. Don't be surprised if I fly.
November 14, 2008 by RedOmega
My pillow still smells of you

this is a commission for painters of:
August 22, 2000
Don't misunderstand this one, it was like palm against palm through a window (idea)
I am in a metal band. What do I name it?
I miss you can I have the ground back now
I would beg to see your arms raised in calcification towards the expanding horizon
May 7, 2004 (idea)
My arms ache for you
September 24, 2007 (personal)
Some of our best friends are three minutes long (idea)
Tell me of the nature of love (idea)
The Cassandralike experience of aging
There were people on the Titanic who waved away the dessert trolley
These are words silently meant for you

Touch is not love's sole signifier
we walk the same path out of sync
weekend sound track
With my head underwater, heart beating in my ears (idea)
You are precious to me. Did you know that?

Been feeling red all week
in a quiet room streaming words for me
You say you love; but with a voice
I don't rewrite my poetry
Words are how we see you. Use them well.
Can't you just fall in love with me already?
Tender girl sipping and planning out her future
The words were ways of touching and made us want to speak with hands

The Book I Haven't Read
Brought down as White, kept down as Black, brought up as None, left with me
An ocean away and here he was, seeping into her
May the wine be sweet. May the stories be heard. May the future bring me home.
this - here - this is the moment
The first time I saw her
Put Your Hand Here

The little smile of recognition, peculiar to noticing a stranger reading your favorite book
Sitting in the library, listening to the rain, reading an interesting book and wanting to meet the man who just walked past
Man reading a book
a constant, low wind trembles through him, catching his words and sending them out into the world
The train station was fucking freezing and
you tell me i live in a malady called imagination and i only can laugh
Your girlfriend will never forget how adorable you were the first time you went

The die is cast, you will cut the mustard or face the music