join us
{it's free}
already a member?
home recent triggers submit trigger news  
Hidden in the movie were the smallest details that you could only glean time after time after time of watching the same scenes over and over again. It's not until you can mimic the scenes, breathe the performance that it all becomes apparent.
Saying that anyone has grit is a blasphemy to all that's come before it.

Moments and spaces in time are disjointed, random, nonlinear. To have grit is to say you can handle it, that you can put forth with the sordid memories, the deep regrets, the quiet moments(more)
It wasn't enough, it never was, never could be.

I pulled over about 30 miles outside Seeley Lake, having been on the road for almost 20 hours. Mountains on all sides. Dense undergrowth and trees in a corridor all along the lakes. Dirt roads leading to trailheads and(more)
Wooden interactions. Small talk punctuated with work jargon. Where once fire and passion burned, little embers slowly died, snuffed out where once they wanted to spread and grow and burn the world to its foundations.
I thought when I came out of the mountains I'd be a whole new guy, but instead I was just the same with a few photographs in tow. Memory baggage.

The idea that you can run away and become someone new has become bullshit to me. The traumas,(more)
I had some good shit written, and when I pressed backspace to edit it deleted the whole goddamn thing. So then I smoked a cigar and chewed a guitar pic instead.

Sometimes, you just wanna say 'Fuck it,' ya know? Leave your thoughts never opened. Instead they'd sit(more)
For a long time I've framed myself the distancing type. I always leave, I keep my feelings to myself left to rot deep down somewhere inside where they turn to bitterness and a longing for fantasies that may never be.
"Whisky for your life, bruv?"

"Fair a deal as any."
Sinead O'Connor was found and is fine. Stop already.

The buffalo is dead, euthanized, because you were too careless to leave only footprints in your environment. Stop already.
Say it's cool mate.

It's cool mate.

Dingoes in the hall, ravenous blenders of teeth and fur. It's cool mate.

Gun to his head, his mouth. Teeth chattering porcelain chimes against steady steel and polycarbon mold.

Squeeze the trigger, paint the walls. A click(more)
Memories of melodies. Of that shitty Taylor Swift song that played ad nausea on the hospital radio stations tuned to DJ's that sound more hungover than enthusiastic. The schizophrenic shaking his head side to side on each line. The patient who lived three lives singing off-tune and kilter to(more)
"Keep the dream alive, motherfuckah," the large man says, watering his petunias.
"Answer-- the second daily double. In 1602..."

"The Mississippi Basin. L. Ron Hubbard. Sacajawea. La Pont Du Mont. Oprah Winfrey."

"What is The Mayflower." (more)
Don't lose sight long light your long face rolls. Of squat equines of roots do show their minds of bark and tendon lines where I can't yet decide. The strength of men lies where cowered in their mother's sights of tears in streams, torrents of muddy waters-- screams in(more)
Let's make love on the back of a whale somersaulting over the moon, thick as thieves as we weave  into writhing ribbons of color and energy that paint the quiet moonlight in rainbows of God himself come to take light on his creation. Cum twice, set me back a light.(more)