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Prince R----There's a shotPrince R---- by ~providence-augustine
of vodka
in the fridge
with your name on it.
It will solve nothing.
Just
ease the pain
prolong the pain
or just
nothing.
I fear nothing
for nothing
is inevitable.
I miss you.
Say it ain't so.
You are the fantasy
in which
I drown myself
for I do not know
I cannot say
what is real.
I am fake
and you
are gone.
Here's another
for the man
I wronged,
for the monster
I've become
This poem
ain't about you
honey.
This is the dungeon
in which the princess
has chained herself.
English Major AlertIt occurred to my professor during the course of his lecture that there was a video on YouTube that could perfectly illustrate his point. He eyed the white Smartboard anxiously. We hushed in anticipation, closing the book that had been glued to our eyes for weeks, and we turned our attention to the blankness of the Smartboard, ready to be dazzled by the magic of technology. The professor completed his final keystroke and clicked his final link, then prepared to observe the fruits of his labor. The board remained blank.English Major Alert by ~providence-augustine
He laughed nervously. "Is it on?" he asked. We echoed his nervous laughter, scanning the faces of our peers, hoping
If Music Be the Food of LoveIf Music Be the Food of LoveIf Music Be the Food of Love by ~providence-augustine
Me, myself and I unanimously agree that I have the best taste in music. I love sharing my music, talking about my music, and learning about the various artists who have comprised my collection. I am protective and defensive about my music. I draw a very distinct line between what is mine and what is not. From the outside these distinctions may seem quite arbitrary: "I don't like the voice," "The lyrics are boring," "That song is gross. Because it is." The pieces that I have hoarded away and identified as mine speak to me and represent me in some perceivable yet unidentifiable way. It's a lot like fallin
And So It GoesYour name is but a ghost upon my lips.And So It Goes by ~providence-augustine
Your living body is but a corpse in my mind.
My fate is but to dwell in your presence.
Each night I must conquer your spectre.
In doing so I reclaim you,
you that had denied yourself to me in life.
I do not wish to do this.
I had no choice.
You will not leave me.
My love for you is gone, but this phantom eros remains.
And so phantom emotion meets phantom body.
And so it goes. And so it goes.
Artistic 
Sta.sh
and the watch! 
