something different

(The first two should be viewed together)

Here are a few drawings i've been working on recently; maybe I should stick to photography.

get it?

nameless bus on a nameless street in a nameless city: the city.

on a hill, on an island- mount royal

you will know it when you feel it :: montreal, quebec

It's ten thirty-five- I'm late.

The morning breeze makes me feel

too prepared

with this sweater-y, wintery mindset that I never fell out off. Break

out the light clothes! It's so warm

today, it's springtime; and I still wear my winter coat:

as to not be caught off guard while

walking over to your apartment.

Up late- again riding out the night,

and why cant you just really act.

Sit. you, sit.

Stress pimples my face in

purple pain and the only thing I really know 

I will be with in the morning is

twenty ounces of

black gold as I fuel the empire with

gasoline- killing birds and killing us all.

perspective

Sleep is so easy to achieve when you are in that altered state of mind; you left the beers in your bag, they are warm in the morning. The skunked drink tastes like a cross between sweat and that leftover chinese food that has been in your fridge since last semester.

Sleep is so easy to achieve when your body is being dragged down; you have been in class for fifty days and the only other fifty days you had left were spent at work. Your legs are crying and there is something thick and viscous in your lungs. The frosty snow covered hill you climbed last night begs you to lay down and call it quits.

Sleep is so hard to achieve when your mind is tired with thought; you want it to stop running and it won't; you haven't the slightest control over it. Legs give out and the body surrenders but that mass of wrinkly grey matter at the top of it all will never. You need to sleep, it's three-o-clock it's four-o-clock and the running needs to stop. You want to suppress. You pick up the skunked beer and drift off.