feeling stills

there is a certainty in rust

of the night drug

to hear it loudest above vanilla light

one friend of myself.

scared sound (happiness)

"This is just such a calm, ocean happiness, that starts with a song, and then ends in thoughts of you all strange, bright, cannonball friends."

Ian William L.

a streetlight wind—jagged—kind

I am starting now, at (THE BLACK SUN SPITS, ECHOES HOWL), because I am happy, and I don't bleed enough money, as I should, to feel adult, and okay. And I care about my mother to a point, that will never be healthy, for someone who is me and cannot bruise time, and I am going to shit myself for seeing a good friend, and throwing up/ourselves into the future. Which is (SOME KIND OF WAX AND BLOOD AND BEE STING), which reflects something (I remain). I have a name tag, with some skin, that says (I SEE YOUR HANDS WANT). I have never. I really like the futureIHATETHEFUTURE.

Everything—is—still—not—bruising——next to me—the warmest———the writer.

I am not good at telling. I was—now—clamming up, closing up, hearing gunshots pretending to be sound, that is just———any fear becomes: Gunshotted. Unbruising. Fearer. That time.

I am going to (I will) sleep, at (ROCK FACES). I am going to dream of golden not spiders crawling into my mouth or existing.

(these global tenses rob us.)

time piece

"Ever you are, ever us brightly."

Ian William L.

anotherwinter

"This life is amazing, the morning against the songs of our skin, everything what shiver."

Ian William L.

what swallow the writer the city

"To step out against our song, the friday night all staticky with rain, dizzying flash-spots, the city to be ours. Here I am animated—swam under—pale—artifice—ticking—made drumming—all grinning—now."

Ian William L.

the long train

Every day threads and fates, strings and stars, weave new light across a life, and so beautiful that I can watch birds in the quiet sky, this love play acoustic inside old storms, lit violent across kissing bones.

shadow, shadow

You are moving through the last dusky snarl of the sunset, to where your friends surely wait.

rain, rain

Another beautiful day, if you just appreciate the othered half—cold skies starry with rain, toothpaste and jackets, smeared jam on gloves, warm chocolate and burnt kisses.

my breath in colour

The frozen morning set spinning, some cold kaleidoscope, for thought.