inside my mind. undiagnosed.

the world through the poetic eyes of a passer by

A collection of tragedies of sorts, of demons or angels (whatever you'd fancy to call them) that lurk and/or gleam in my mind. Written when the moon's dreary and the sun's near awakening. Obnoxiously metaphoric, subtly inspirational. © Jake Sullivan, 2014

"darling, you are art, most importantly, you are my art."

if nothing else works, call your mom. poetry #9

“i give a fuck. i give a lot of fucks, actually. i'm a prostitute of feelings.”

anecdotes and shenanigans and punctuation.

ideas come often, yet they have no where to go.