Buried Alive in Sleep

Dead dreams sink under the weight of living nightmares.
Creatures from the black sweep out of the shadows, as eyelashes twitch out the seconds to the tick of a clock.
The sky washes ashore over lifeless toes.
Faces you can't quite remember peer owlishly out of the folds of your memories.
Silent screams rend open windpipes.
Punches hurled in frustration sink into sandy enemies.
Helpless in a swath of sheets.
This is what it is to sleep.
This is what it is to die.

Love is our Resistance

I'm not going to claim to be much of a live music fan. Usually I am content to plug in the old ipod or computer and listen by myself in the comfort of my own room. But last Sunday I was given the opportunity to see Muse, an amazing British band, performing at the Walter Kerr theater for MTV.

I did like the band before I actually went. But something about being three rows from them, in a room full of people that were absolutely pumped to be there, it really affected me. The lighting was amazing, the theater was gorgeous, and the band was spot on.

There was something incredibly religious about the experience. Thousands of people leaping and fist pumping and singing in unison, it was like church. We were all feeling the resistance. I felt more poetic about it right after, but I was too dog tired to do anything but snap a shot of me with my wristband on.

Still Love You

I miss being the only thing you needed in the world.
I miss you asking to come see me.
I miss holding your hand,
Kissing without a struggle
And knowing that I was always on your mind.

How do I make you see me like a woman again?

I love laughing with you.
I love playing games with you.
I love fighting the world with you.
I love when you touch my face,
my back,
my shoulders.

But, how do I make you see me like a woman again?

BrainStorming a Surveillance Project.

Full view is going to be far more enjoyable.
Voyeurism 101