How To Fake A Life
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Voicemail
The walls are endlessly bare. Nothing hangs on them, nothing defines them. They are without texture. Even to the keenest eye or most sentient fingertip they remain unreadable. You will never find a mark there. No trace survives. The walls oblierate everything. They are permanetly absolved of all record. Oblique, forever obsure and unwritten. Behold the perfect pantheon of absence.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Wild Tigers
If we both pretend that there was an end, then maybe there really will be a beginning. And it will start with us, running away together. Off, off, off. Far, far, far away. And we'll live with the lions and sleep in trees. Just sleep, that's all we need.
Breaking Things
Do you think about breaking things? We could break things. Hearts? Don't break my heart...
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
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