it takes one to know one, kid

the mirror's so brutally honest sometimes.

the world's got a grey eyed soul

the year's evaporated. condensed, sweet, sour.

natural causes: the story of the untimely death of shortest day of the year

this sucker's already cold! young, too.

lost on my own paper trail

now adolescence looks even more awkward.

it's as warm as saxaphones and honey in the sun for you

another airplane will reunite us soon.

estrella blanca, my guiding light

gone to guerrero with few pesos.

the pacific has no memory

neta: "find your own damn zihuatanejo."

prometheus, my rogue

steal me a spark, firecracker kid.

toxic bonds in a quiet room

flake away. time's passing, paint's peeling.

wake up

her dreams were full of broken things: burning buildings, bricks through windows, children without mothers, all activity stomping to the deep rhythm of war beating tirelessly through the city's heavy air. there was nothing to turn to, all the screens had been smashed and the cords had been cut. there was only the sound of machinery and voices. and then, a great rumble came forth from below. the noise was deafening, as the prisoners broke free.

and as soon as the war had begun, it evaporated into the morning air.

at the moment that consciousness hit her as she lay drowning in a pool of sunlight, it was the silence that nearly killed her. the only thing she could hear was the slow steady drip of the minutes, as she faced the prospect of another day in that brilliantly decorated room with the window overlooking the employee parking lot, surrounded by airbrushed photos of impossibly beautiful women, wondering desperately if one day all the lies she produced would give her meaning.

day dream, autumn eves

i dreamt that you'd been stronger.

a stroke of obvious

shit. no one's getting out alive.

holy oath

"i'm not a failure, i swear."

the story i started writing 20 years ago

soy bien cabrona para vivir, amigo.

number blues

2 months. 1 girl. no job!

emploi desséchant, va te faire foutre!

in french it sounds more civilized.

me travel pretty one day

flight is escape. empty is wallet.

california v. capitalism

the numbers are making this hopeless.

no resolutions

but to stop measuring the days.

looking forward to dinner

hangover for breakfast, procrastination for lunch.