girls guns glory

her hair in braids.
the way she talked to me,
with all her sayings.
shaking it out. shaking her hair out.
spilling over me, baby
you and
her and I
with the twisty tied lies. all of it didn't matter.

loved the way you said my name. the way you wouldn't say it.
how you still think it.
the way you flicked your ashes. stuck out your tongue.
how you didn't talk to much, or to little.
there are plenty more pretty girls.
sad faced
broken,
happy
to this summer
of discontent.
this is what I always say. .
but you are mine. that's everything. that was like

everything.

I wake up. it's quarter to three in the morning and she isn't next to me. I become shadow, when you tell me to let it go. words when you give me the lines. Everything is different. It's always different. the music, the writing, the weather, the price of gasoline, the diamond rings, the bottles drank, the night, the moon.

the hole. the void. the river of doubt.

denial.

It's easy, everyone can do it.

when it's right in front of me. when its in my grasp and my claws have sunk in. i taste it. I have tasted it. the trickle.

the drop of

every moment.

I'm not in for changing to much. but things change and you can't do much about it. the heart changes and I'm not sure if I can do this much longer. Or my Job. it's slow. everything is slow out there. in construction, which is what i do. it's feast or famine. when everything is on the line and it's on you. when there is nothing left there to be had. there is other stuff. things i can do. money is everywhere. hustle and jive and bullshit your way to it. I can do that. It's just you get used to certain things. certain someones and somethings. my dog isn't there anymore. he was a good friend. she used to be friendly too. when it's over lovers aren't your friends. and your friends. they aren't your friends. after that
there is me.

art: Brian Viveros

photo 2: dirtycupcake
photo 3: pinkluv

all your pretty things

promises:

'fall back and I'll catch you' that's what was on the post-card she sent me. It's a German phrase about trust in romance. but once she finally let go. I told her that she could no longer have me. It's kind of a joke between us now. because once i didn't have her, I wanted her back. It was a shock to me just how much i missed her. just how far I'd go.
there is no game in letting go, which is why people rarely do. or one does and not the other. or both do and then you're really fucked. just how far will go? why do I always have to know that. we kissed. yeah. we lied some. we won. I think. or lost. and this is whats left. I'm glad the scary part is over. Oh, and what i said before about it being a joke between us. it's not. I just said that.


snow fight:

I am the opposite of bear. I want to hibernate in the summer.
Driving up the coast past the orange groves. less people on the road. the tourists have all gone home. bugs splatter against my wind-shield. when i finally get to the ocean, its flat. So I just paddle out and lay on my surf-board. I ride the wind-chop in to the shore. I'm sleepy from the drive. If I want to rest, there is a motel room close by. the inside looks like right out of the 70's. bright flowery bed covers. in the bathroom the sink and bat-tub are pink. The floors are linoleum and cool on bare-feet.
She lives closes by and if I call her, there is a good chance she might come. We'd listen to music and fuck and then Id be hungry and more tired. the sun.
What i do is, I ask her to tell me about snow. I ask her what its like to sled or make a snowman. then I'm cold. the noisy Ac unit in the room is pumping and grinding out ice cold air.
I pull the covers over us. Hibernate with me.

cake fight:

The heat is unbearable. when i was a kid i never noticed the heat. Maybe because I spent most my time hiding in the woods. the trees covered me with shade and there was a breeze that would blow branches and leaves, making a constant creaking and shhhhh- shhhhhh shhhhh..sound.
I searched for dirty magazines that the older kids would hide. somewhere in those woods I bet it's still there. the magazine with the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. naked!. i swear. i found it under rotting ply-wood and leaves. usually I'd just look - put it back where i found it. but i wanted this one. so, I took it away and buried it.
I buried so many things in there. my little army guys, micronauts, bottles, cans, a lighter that i stole from my father, a knife from home, dead things I found. I peed on a girl in the woods. I touched her and she touched me back. once I brought a plastic thermometer from a doctors kit i had when i was little. I put it in her butt. It's there too. dirty. buried. I buried the truth there...... I buried our secrets and lies. I wish it was as easy now. the heat is unbearable.

photos by: in order of appearance
whywhat

dementee

moss-koete
m0thyyku