la_la_landian's profile

West Virginia is exactly the same as home A strip mall settled in the crook of a river valley That has spread itself around Like the contents of my wallet Like the coffee blooming across the top of my thigh Like Lauren’s laugh And the smoke flying from her face The strip mall has settled itself into my mind And everything he says is overcast with a layer of concrete and cigarettes I keep a lighter on me Just in case I feel the need to burn myself to the ground And so Joseph came around Just t...

I’m so tired of swinging your direction Telephone static never tasted so sour When it’s not followed by an answer Up on such wires I can’t stop speaking Shaking Swinging from chains looking for answer in the electricity Staring at a you-sized hole in my bed Where I remember the curve of your shoulder touched your neck As you stared back at me And a tiny little island In the iris of your eye Eroded with each passing wave And every word unspoken led to a fissure in your arm Bleeding over the si...

Dear Laura, Facebook pages are miserable liars. I remember when I first read yours. Under occupation, you had not listed yourself as a waitress, or even the unisex ‘server,’ but rather as an attendant. I thought it was a beautiful word. You told stories about children who chirped like birds and threw fountains of chocolate milk into the air, who lived only on the whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. You described old men with the eyebrows of Andy Rooney, the mustaches of Wilford Brimley, and ...

Nick Watson was thirty two, and had assumed he ought to be past these sort of things by now. Waiting and pacing and putting up with it all out of politeness. Spending days dreaming of every way in which he hated her. Delia was pushing lipstick into the corners of her mouth with her fingertips, leaning into the mirror, all breasts and eyelashes and tousled fried white-blonde hair. She winked at herself. Her eye looked like a great black wound. He sighed, pulling his green sweater down over his...

When I stare up it looks like the ceiling is about to fall in on me She has curves like a woman Falling out about those lines that keep her contained Full of holes And chemical lights They hum like angels Around that dusty blue light And the cobwebs fill her up They needed somewhere to stay amongst such strange sterility The stepping is jingling change around in my mind And in my pockets And sends the message "Don't rob me I only keep exact change for a pack of Pall Malls Please don't rob me ...