My greatest weakness is a weak man with a tan line on his ring finger,the kind of man that slides a whisky I didn’t order onto the table,insisting that he doesn’t drink,hinting that it’s better if I do,confident of everything but his weathered face,but smiling with the boyish buoyancy that only comes with decades of…

The clouds have come apart against the pretty, painted, ultramarine,waking up with the sort of sigh that only comes with the premature end of elation,and darling, I understand them completely. Last night, I was lost in my lyrics and the whisky that whisked them into life,killed by a goodnight kiss, long after I had lost…

My violent vices are so beautiful in the moonlight of my musings,menthol cigarettes,maddeningly short dresses,mono recordings of 1940’s swing dances.These are the things that keep me sane while the wolves wait outside of my bunker. I am in the arms of an old haunt tonight,he is harmed by the truth we both know,and he holds…

I used to believe that I was a wild woman.I was mad and made of storm clouds,lost in a love affair with languishing,fatalistic as I faced the feminine urge to unravel. I have travelled to places you’d never believe,coconut lip gloss covers a lost girl’s kiss,so unattainable, so unavailable,locked in a tower, behind a lake…