March 2012
58 posts
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Excerpt | Blood Orange: Meridian
Her name was Constance. They met along the beach and the moon smiled down upon them. The two hardly said a word. And Meridian liked that she wasn’t full of talk like so many of the women before her. He liked that they didn’t have to say anything, to say so much. They could just sit and watch their fingers trickle between bones and work between the sheets that held them so close in the morning...
February 2012
61 posts
Every Time I Die: Ex-Lives →
You can go listen to the new Every Time I Die album, in its entirety, if you click the link above.
Note: Not for the faint of heart.
You’re welcome.
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Announcement
My cell phone is officially off.
For those of you that may have been trying to get a hold of me: I’m not ignoring you.
For those of you that may want to get a hold of me: Either email me or hit up my ask box with your magic fingers.
Car > cell phone every day of the week.
I hope you are all having a lovely day.
-Todd
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Words about Ay
“I hope you don’t think I disappeared.” I can’t see her eyes, but I know she is staring at something.
It’s been three weeks since she sat in the door way, rain pouring in through the screen door. Since she let her toes hang from the edge of the pool. Since we drank coffee and watched the sun come up. Since she left.
I can’t see her eyes, but I...
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History I.
In 1954, the first star fell from the sky. Small town Ohio in the backyard as a family of four watched it plunge into the soft ground and sputter, like an engine without gas. The lights across town went out for three hours. During that time sixteen televisions, nine VCR’s, two cars, a limo, an ice cream truck, and four giraffes were stolen. Nothing was ever recovered.
Later that...
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Abstract
I shaved my head and asked God to scatter my hair into the wind, so that Patience could hold my hand again and that I would be whole. Unbroken and unfaltering. But he never answered. So my hair grew long and I cried for seven hours. My tears turned to sap and my skin to bark. I was stuck. Feet down into the ground and grass covered my shins and fingernails. You left and came back with an axe. To...
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Words about J
You completed me upon arrival. The wheels of your plane touched down, small bits of rubber and smoke kicking up off the asphalt. I remember your eyes the most. They looked tired. Like you had hadn’t been sleeping. Maybe you weren’t as much of a liar as I thought. You dropped your bags at the sides of your feet and embraced me, your arms draping around my shoulders and neck. Your...
Really paranoid today
Someone is behind something but I haven’t quite put my finger on it yet.
I will find you.
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"We got flogged so we attended a wake."
Thanks to the wonderful Rakuli, I now have pages on my blog that link directly to all of my poetry, prose and Blood Orange excerpts.
So yea. Should make it a bit easier for anyone looking for specific things.
Happy weekend, friends.
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Some girls. Some boys.
Some wake up. Side by side, bathed in the sweat of, a three month sweltering breath.
Some feel dead. Like nothing done before then, means anything to nothing: eyelids, gluing open.
Some rise and drink. Only to sink, fast like rocks into the toes of shoes, begging to be left behind.
Some will be alive. With nothing, but lonely wind rippling through, hollow chest cavities.
Some, will keep...
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Winter: Wolf
Red eyes and hot breath, I can feel you coming.
Watchful lust, upon fading clouds of dust.
Dance all night, and sleep all day between broken windows, glass, catching your intensity.
(Assist a broken heart, carousels spinning around- Round and round and round)
Concentrate- On the space between my eyes, and tell me, (w h i s p e r) all the things I want to hear
It’s...
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Words about M
“How much do you feel?”
I don’t understand the question. It rolls off her tongue so easy.
“I’m starting to feel like I don’t feel anymore. Like the whole world has it figured out. But I don’t. I see people that just do things and I don’t understand how they got there or here or anywhere. It makes no sense. I think I’m going to throw...
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Gifts
Bring me your brokenhearted. The ones that wore, everything on their sleeves, and found them tattered and torn, before sunrise.
Bring me your weary. The ones wasted inside the ticks of their clocks, lifeless within circles. Fabricated for “safety”.
Bring me the toothless. From bar fights and classroom brawls. Glass and wood tucked in their skin, blood trickling between broken...
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Codependent Pt. 2
Maybe, just maybe-
if I write about love with no more than three words per line:
People will read my words.
I guess, I just don’t know about love like everyone else.
Stop writing about love.
Grow and stop being codependent.
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Sheep
Paranoia, misconceptions: This circle that we ride.
It’s all science-fiction, superstition: The fabric of our lives.
A predicted, hallucination: To convince us we’re alright.
Lock the doors up, keep the noise down, we’re giving in to fright.
Inoculation, mastication: Is killing us on sight.
Raping passion, keeping rations of mind erasing blight.
So turn the TV on, hold all...
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Winter: Subtitles
When I run out of words, I think to myself that, I need a taste of you-
Just to get a small idea, of what all the other boys talk about.
Especially, when your back is turned.
Can you feel, their stabs? Stretching your guts across the bed. Velvet, beautiful and dead.
Can you feel, their teeth? Nibbling your flesh from the bones. Paper white, thin and alone.
I bet it feels, like love.
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Excerpt | Blood Orange: Walter & Meridian
Silence. Walter turned his head slightly to the right and the man in white was standing only an arms reach away. His stomach sank and he began to raise his rifle. Those big teeth came out and Walter couldn’t understand. “What do you want?” Walter’s eyes were wide. “What makes you think… I want something, Walter?” The man talked slow and his voice was like a hollow wind....
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Codependent
You’ve never fallen in love or met someone new.
It’s all the same. Just, strings and smoke and mirrors, that are broken or severed. Shot out of the canon named Hope.
Hope is at a loss for words. She hasn’t fired in so long. I ask her, how long it’s been since she made love or picked fresh flowers and her mouth only stays wide open, waiting to be stuffed full of...
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The D(esol)ate
Bask together and hold hands as sunlight breaks, through blinds.
We are all in love. We are all so tragic.
Our hearts handle like glass and close like bear traps. With bodies like leaves: piled on, tree roots and moss, dangling limbs with dirt for teeth, we notch our belts.
And sing in our sleep.
Our collective cadence reaches for miles, like homeless dogs, hungry, scrounging for meals in...
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Want
I want to melt into wax. Struggle, to breathe. Laugh and cry and let my veins burn into nothing.
“What do you want to eat?”
She asks me slow and there is a knife in her left hand: Large and ready.
I say nothing and want nothing.
It’s irrelevant and irreversible to want.
Once you want one thing, you want it all.
I can’t bring myself to want.
Not like this.
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Winter: Snow
The eggnog tasted like shit. His feet dangled cautiously towards the hardwood floor, shoes hanging from his toes like a cliffhanger ready for the final fall towards sharp rocks. He cupped his hands together in his lap and his eyes darted back and forth between the snow falling outside and the infomercials on the television. The late night television programs were shit. It was all...
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Stop writing about love.
Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love. Stop writing about love.
It never got you anywhere before.
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Other Houses I Haunt
This is Better Music
Beer Bottle Press
YouTube
Twitter
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Floods
The floods came. They overturned cars. They swept away family pets and picket fences. They invaded homes through seams and gaps. They washed away time itself, picking telephone poles from the loose soil and depositing them further downstream, wires and bits of wood washing up onto school yards and parking lots abandoned and quiet.
Then the rain stopped and we all came out of our...
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Winter: Valentine's Day
The midwest burns through the night, flames licking the bellies of planes flying overhead. The passengers cry, eyes burning from the smoke.
We shared, only one sunset but it was enough to last a lifetime. I’ve never wanted something so bad, than to watch those clouds bleed again.
Vibrations shake our bones and the blood, ripples in reaction to this needless completion of ascending...
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Identity Crisis
Humidity lay thick in my nose, like the diction of your prose and summer is finally here. The sting, of tongues and cold fingertips: Fall as tides.
The cityscape screams by, like passengers from a runaway train and I’ll tip my hat and wish them luck: Words can’t save a helpless man.
This place is lacking as you spackle, on image as thick as mortar, believing that more is better:
...
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Excerpt | Blood Orange: Walter
Walter stood on his back porch and looked over his trees. It was quiet and still. The sun was reaching further into the sky and clouds dotted the rich blue canvas.
His old bones found a seat and he slept until the sun was nearly kissing the horizon. It was still quiet and Walter smiled an empty smile.
“Well old man, let’s hope you can make the dead proud.”
He creaked and found...
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Sunday Funday
Good afternoon friends. I hope you are well and having a wonderful weekend.
I wrote this late last night. Enjoy.
More to come later tonight.
Love you.
-Todd
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The Day Whitney Houston Died
I watched a few cry.
Hysterical and blathering about nothing.
What she meant. What she did.
I heard some say, “Who?”. They were tossed from the cliffs. Bodies burned and consumed. Souls sacrificed, to the Gods of Music.
I say, “Will you cry, for the one who taught you to love? Will you cry, for the one who taught you to fight? Will you cry, for the one that taught you to...
Anonymous asked: In which direction does your penis bend?
blankpagesandinvisibleink asked: what are you wearing? ;)
earthtochelsea asked: I'm sure you've been asked this a hundred times (so forgive me for being repetitive), but what do you do when facing the horrible monster that is writer's block? How do you break its awful cycle?
Anonymous asked: you're a guy right? so what do you get a guy for valentine's day?
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Stones 1954
Simple lives for simple hearts.
Family and friends, more important than movie stars or fashion.
A nickle could get you, a handful of candy. A handshake could get you, a friend for life.
Hard working sweat paving the way for America, and the American Dream is right around the bend, waiting to bury us alive. With price tags in quadruple digits: a television and magazine ruin an honest way of...
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Excerpt | Blood Orange: Walter
Just off of Highway 1, gentle tides met the California coast. Walter sat and watched the waves come and go. The radio in his BMW crooned static and blues. His old fingers peeled a nearly ripe blood orange while an early March chill crept along the pavement and onto stretches of sand. Walter was getting old and he could feel it in his bones. They were becoming brittle and hollow like a...
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Words about Ay
“You know what the weirdest part of life is?” She is chewing on the cap of a pen. “What?” “Anniversaries.” My coffee is getting cold but the microwave is broken. “Why?”
“Like,” She stops to think. The cap of her pen finds the table. Fingers find a napkin. Always fidgeting with something. “Anniversaries of...
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Goodbyes
I like when you don’t say goodbye. When I’m just a piece of used furniture at a second hand shop, stuffed in the back, old and dusty. Coins deep in the folds of my skin and I smell like stale cigarettes. Used never felt so right.
I like when you don’t say goodbye. When I make phone calls to an empty robotic voice, through some invisible lines that I can never touch or see....
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Excerpt | Blood Orange: Meridian
He liked women but he never married. Meridian would sit in speakeasies and drink scotch, listening to small talk amongst the drunkards and the lost. He found that most only wanted a warm body to wake up next to in the morning, the desperation in their voices reaching only the ears of those they thought suited for such a task. Sometimes, he would follow them back behind closed doors and...
lightofsveta asked: What is the hardest character for you to write? One that you just can't seem to connect with or portray in the right way.
Anonymous asked: This is random. But. I can never follow you nor take your writing seriously. Why? Because of your icon picture. It gives me the feeling that you're trying to look funny and dumb and like you're stupid. And it's really just annoying. I'm truly sorry that I can't give your writing a chance, but when I see that picture of you, it's just one of those things that irks me...
Anonymous asked: You're so dreamy. I'd love to sex you.
Anonymous asked: I can't seem to connect with your work. You are very intelligent. Where is your heart in your writing? Show me.
Anonymous asked: Slightly modest girls, old fashioned girls, or revealing girls?
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Winter: Companions
We played that night, until the sun came up.
And we were alive, finally.
“Say something else.”
I was the jester, making you smile and laugh: Your wine glass tipping, this way and that.
Like some drunkard in a tavern, singing songs from the sea barrels of whiskey, tucked within the walls of your lungs.
Bleed this patience, as I wait to get you inside to take off those rags, v-necks and black...
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Excerpt | Blood Orange: Meridian
Meridian was born in Colorado in 1896. His father was a banker and his mother was a woman that liked men that weren’t her husband. It was the thrill, she would say, pushing ample clumps of hair behind her perfect ears just after asking for her husband’s forgiveness, streaks of make-up running from the corners of her eyes all the way down the curve of her face. Meridian always thought that...
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