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john-paul cosentino
27/m/nyc


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  • 172
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  • Art Copyright Jimmy Ruska




    Blah


    Mood: The Usual

    Posted on 2019-07-01 20:14:59


       This site is so dead...it’s a miracle if anyone leaves a comment these days.
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    Untitled Entry


    Mood: The Usual

    Posted on 2011-12-23 14:40:14


       
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    Untitled Entry


    Mood: The Usual

    Posted on 2011-12-23 14:39:50


       http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=0xTeO_-gZSo
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    Untitled Entry


    Mood: The Usual

    Posted on 2011-12-23 14:39:34


       http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=0xTeO_-gZSo
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    Untitled Entry


    Mood: The Usual

    Posted on 2011-06-14 15:43:13


       
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    unrequited


    Mood: Sigh...

    Posted on 2011-06-14 15:42:37


       
    the basil withers-

    it shatters in these sun scorched
    hands
    that hold you;

    ribosome swells like the ocean in the cracks-
    i lick the salty foam,

    molecule
    by
    molecule

    i
    fleck
    and dis
                             solve

    on the tongue of Aphrodite-

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    Untitled Entry


    Mood: The Usual

    Posted on 2011-06-12 12:12:43


       
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    writers block


    Mood: Sleepy

    Posted on 2011-06-12 06:23:56


       
    evening falls dark purple over the city, the stars
    slip past the skyscrapers, moon muses beyond the shifting clouds, and

    the poet stalks his prey. the elusive beast shut up in stark white,
    a jungle of paper tethered with thin metal coils;

    her legs spread before him.

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    writers block


    Mood: The Usual

    Posted on 2011-06-12 00:08:36


       
    evening falls dark purple over the city, the stars
    slip past the skyscrapers, moon muses beyond the shifting clouds, and

    the poet stalks his prey. the elusive beast shut up in stark white,
    a jungle of paper tethered to thin metal coils; her legs spread before him.

    -------








    writers block


    Mood: The Usual

    Posted on 2011-06-12 00:08:11


       
    evening falls dark purple over the city, the stars
    slip past the skyscrapers, moon muses beyond the shifting clouds, and

    the poet stalks his prey. the elusive beast shut up in stark white,
    a jungle of paper tethered to thin metal coils; her legs spread before him.

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