"italicized idleness illuminated by the tic toc of time; fueled fluorescent in the blue confusion of flickering bulbs & clinical corridors of filler conversation."
Trying to breathe, TRYING TO BREATHE into the woods. An old woman in a furry hat & I, laughing together still somewhat lifelike. Ever too proud to play boomerang or go fetch for change FOR CHANGE we live out of bags. Exactly where we're meant to be & 'how you say?' ...all that jazz." --shoo.shu #doubleentendres #poetry #spilledink #inthenow #inthemoment #underdog #homeless #boho #bohemian #wanderlust #gypsy #nomad
"chasing down ******-babble with distilled shots of art after detonation, was not unlike unlike being spellbound by a lover's jawline, unhinged." ||shoo.shu ||
This poem is about the wasted days my boyfriend and I spent anihilated in mayhem.
'It goes on' wrote Frost... to understand suffering soberly. To breathe beauty in an abhorrance of decay. To sigh bliss on realities own terms. This is to know. --shoo.shu
"preyed upon by a decipherable stranger, mapped in déjà vu. a prophetic bang of sublime yesterday's & objects in mirror are closer than they appear.“ || shoo.shu ||
"tingaling captivated for forsakens sake. tenderness felt two souls memorized in a haze deadly utopia a gentle demeanor of 'just stay' mouthed by a particular ghost. insignia... the secret."
“we were soul wolves stealing nights & apprehending other-worldly shadows beneath the safety curtain of a silent moon; never meant to see the light of day.” || shoo.shu ||
"photographs of high fever. unlocked films of diamond-set insignificance this negative of existence, spitting static in sweat soaked dark rooms." || shoo.shu ||
“A DESCIPLE OF THE MIDNIGHT SKY. SLOWLY BURNING OUT, LIKE A DYING STAR INTO THE HIT AND RUN OF CHEMICAL CREATIONS. UNTIL ALL THAT REMAINS IS A CAUTIONARY TALE, TIMELESSLY DRIFTING IN THE CHALK OUTLINE OF THE MILKY WAY.”
"ineffable tension; homesick in someone else's prison. stranger than 'finnegan's wake.' in the beggaring hours, time is all that persists. the pages speed-turn possessed by the prelude of open space." -shoo.shu
“the unraveling of his highlight reel was the fragrance of flying backwards; a place where poetry wrote itself into the fragments of his skull.” || shoo.shu ||