seannelson
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My stories
the marijuana cave
In from the snow of reality: melodic scrawlings on the wall bones in the back. outside, worries and dangers prowl but this is my place and the rock bottom is soft as feathers
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- 1080 reads
our friend the machine
the machine it's not so bad one of the best friends I ever had the machine knows what we need, the machine won't make us bleed the machine packs us into trite coffeehouses
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- 739 reads
digital confessional
I'm scared of the T.V. and I rarely shave. every channel's about depravity and I'm trying to behave. I think I have M.S., at any rate it's hard to walk. I spend my time dialing numbers
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- 548 reads
an elliott smith poem
a musical saint for artists, addicts and the mentally scrambled composer of melodic dissonance poet of dark innocence he's so key to me I almost couldn't write this poem,
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- 564 reads
the outlaw
the cops on his trail, he was an unwelcome guest in my apartment for a few hours let him in to make a phone-call. how could I be so stupid? but I was kind to him
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- 512 reads