I'm pretending the rustling sounds are waves of maple leaves gently crashing up onto a beach of patchy and blighted grass and Creeping Jenny underneath my rake.

A really cold beach: 50 degrees.

Let's pretend it's Massachusetts, then.

I'm fucking lonely.

Posted at at September 30, 2017 on Saturday, September 30, 2017 by By razingeden |   | Filed under:


I made it through my second heart surgery out in Los Angeles.

I haven't worked in about four months.

I had a dream I was sitting in the front window of the house I grew up in, watching my sister get dropped off after a night of partying.

And then she, and the car, slowly faded away.

I started bawling thinking I'd never see her coming home all fucked up again.

I woke up at some truck stop... somewhere... at the crack of dawn.

I'm afraid to thumbs up or thumbs down anything on this Spotify set because it's dope as fuck exactly the way it is.

Posted at at September 16, 2017 on Saturday, September 16, 2017 by By razingeden |   | Filed under: