For Listening ->
Pure Voume
Myspace

For Seeing ->
Imagery

For Reading ->
Everything is Hardly Enough - lyrics

Nothing Is New Under The Sun: The words are sharp behind paintings, her red hands are shaking. Downplaying evidence with ignorance, exposing film and knotting lose ends. Nothing is new under the sun, we fall on our swords for each other. The candles are lit, pockets are emptied, as the president bleeds on closed circuit tv. It's measured out, it's magnified, spliced and shoved underneath the lights of a microscope. Toe to heal, walking along the meniscus curve of the country's beaker. Pulling paper from the sky, flags hung at half mass, this is the day that logic died. Everything these days is hardly enough, you wear pros on your shoulder, cons on your cuff, and hang decision from your back pocket like feeling among the ruins of love. This is no ground for improvement, smokestacks, steeples, and footprints in the cement

Soliloquy: I won't ask if you promise not to speak, but you're welcome to look over your shoulder and watch me try to breathe. Even though I'm good for nothing but trouble you say, You can summon me gone but I'll never fade away from your memory. I won't leave if you swear not to stay, I never even really loved you anyway. It's funny how some feelings just fade away, I'm tired of dragging around you, your ball, and your chain. Free I'll think desperately of not breathing, Stuck between skeptical and disbelieving. For now we'll set fire to banks by water below bridges we never built, and drown everyone's guilt in lakes we built but never filled.

Verbatim: Pastelled jail cells, soak my hands in thinner and paint myself a more realistic hell. Turpentine, erase these permanent lines. Are you comfortable, complacent, or can't you decide? Here's your memory, just sign the dotted line. The world is mine, the world is mine, the rest is yours for the taking. Telephone calls from shadows in the hall, from interment alcoholics and formal funeral balls. I've dialed every number written on these bathroom walls. Touch my fingertips and try to tell me I've not lived like i should have at all

Kindling Scaffold for Kindred Hearts: Place your bet, and evacuate these anorexic silhouettes, and mask yourself with makeup and cigarettes. A roseless stem on a judiciary shelf, she tucked it under his pillow herself. Like autumnal snow the secrets show before the aliby melts. Oh such kindling scaffold for such kindred heated hell, poems written by triggers and read by bullet shells. Christened by checkbooks and grandfather clocks, prayers intercepted by evangelical stock, the jury's mouths are tickertaped shut. Hester Prynned and proud of the daughter I've got. And now she's weaving respect with retaliation for baby food and a new car, or stumbling home emergent with the boys at the bar. If pleasure's the sort of scratch that leaves an alphabetical scar, well then this american dream seems far from who we are. Shade me in, show me to your friends, tonight I'll shower all the colors off and be seen in black and white again. Lets just pretend we were both surprised when we watched the colors blend. This is one letter I think someday I'll send.