"And the emptiness grew..."

One day, an increasingly large number of years from now, I'll write something really meaningful about heavy metal, despite the fact that metal needs no spokesperson- especially not me.

Hail the riff.

now playing: Jex Thoth, Jex Thoth

Dear Hollywood: Fuck you and your censorship-loving cronies.

I've censored the following, in protest of a bill that gives any corporation and the US government the power to censor the internet--a bill that could pass THIS WEEK. To see the uncensored text, and to stop internet censorship, visit: http://americancensorship.org/posts/13273/uncensor

████ ███████ isn't ████████ ███████; it's the ████ ████ it's ████████ ████ ██████. Do █████████, ████ if it's ████ ███████ an █████ to ████ ███████████████. ████ ████ █████.

Teachings in silence.

At the blurred, exhausted edge of a winter night
there is possibly nothing better
than a tall glass of cold water
and Ulver
(particularly the Teachings in Silence compilation).
Silence teaches you how to sing
indeed.

"Teenagers and Cigarettes"/"16yo lungs" (first, maybe last, draft)

"teenagers and cigarettes"/"16yo lungs"

The surest sign of youth is that
patch of dirt or grass around
the side of the house,
or that sun-bled coke can,
sometimes a windowsill-
all
scratched black
and clotted with filters,
sometimes lipsticked
(and when they are, and that color isn't yours,
oh how the heart moves),
never symmetrical in their destruction.

The escape and worry,
isolation
and happiness,
the held hands
that led to
or emerged from
each long drag instance,
won't wait for archaeology
or enraged parents
or the disappointment of an older self

to signify
like the tiny orange supernova
of the word writ in fire
between synaptic headphones.

(12.8-9.11)