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Welcome to the blog. It’s a strange place, so before you get started, I’ll tell you how it works.

Each “blog post” is a combination of two things. Those two things are almost always an image and a poem.

Here’s what to do with them:

  1. Look at the image and pay attention to what emotional state it puts you in.
  2. Hold onto that, and read the poem. See what thoughts pop up in your mind.
  3. You don’t have to work to “figure it out.” Your mind is naturally going to try to draw conclusions, so just let it. 
  4. Repeat steps one through three until a fresh thought of your own emerges.

Ideally, you’ll leave with an insight you came up with that you’ve never considered before. Give yourself space to think about it.

To get started, you can scroll down to see the most recent pieces, or you can start with a random one.

wind up

wind up (drawing by lurm)

wind up

the memory of action
freezes into a motionless instant

let go

the memory becomes movement
until everything churns to stillness

we can’t forget
because our past lives in our bones
our tendons curled tightly
around everything we ever did

let go

and everything that happened once



my friend, the void

my friend the void lurm

the void can be a friend
it isn’t just an end
to every single thing;
it depends on what you send.

you can lock away your gold
and feed it dirt and rust and mold
cuz it eats anything you bring
whether broken, bad, or old

when you sneak within its range
every light will start to change
you won’t remember anything
because the atmosphere is strange

but its throat is open wide
so just throw your trash inside
but sit still if you feel a sting
or you’ll get sucked in by the tide

and if you get touched by the black
no need to panic or attack
you can’t change a single thing
just know you’re never coming back

friendly house

lurm friendly house drawing

you live in a friendly house.

every season you redecorate it with fresh lights and bright colors.

your house is a warm and kind house, with a sweet and safe person inside.

does that sound like what you want me to think?

no one’s ever knocked at the door, and they’ll never bother knocking.

no one’s ever dropped in for a cup of tea, and they never will.

does that sound like what you think?

because i figured out that your friendly house has been empty for a long, long time. a few years ago i tried to stop by—but you never were home when i knocked.

finally i let myself in. (you left the door unlocked, and i wanted to make sure you were ok.) i was surprised by how stripped bare the inside was.

it was pretty clear that there was no way you lived here anymore. maybe you never did in the first place.

i’ve left you a lot of notes, but they just keep piling up unopened. i guess it makes sense; you don’t expect to find any.

seems like every time you come back to redecorate, you don’t bother looking inside to see if anything’s changed. you don’t check your mail, either.

why would there be any, you probably figure.

i’ve been trying to catch you sometime when you come back to decorate the outside of the house. but so far the changes in the lights only seem to happen while i’m asleep.

i wish i had your new address.

maybe you don’t even have one. maybe you spend your life decorating thousands of houses, just like this one.

does that sound like you?

there may be notes like this in all of them.

i hope you check one day.

can’t trust a dichotomy

lurm is it a puzzle or is it a lie art

it’s like every statement online has to be interpreted as either a joke or a lesson.

why can’t things be neither?

maybe this is neither.

unless …

was that a lesson that happened just now?

damn. i think it was.

i guess that makes this a joke.

the jungle

jungles (mixed media art by lurm)

there’s a lot to absorb about what is.
there’s a lot to wonder about what’s next.
self-propelled systems iterate
and reiterate;
renegade life careening somewhere.
systems are reborn as new systems.
every hour: change.
these systems tangle up into each other
behind your back
like vines—
like jungles weaving through jungles.


this photo would not exist without annmarie kent.

a safe house

a safe house (drawing by lurm)

it’s supposed to be safe here

if you leave
it won’t be the same when you come back

if you stay
no one will remember your name

if you leave
you’ll be running back soon

if you stay
you’ll run away soon enough

it’s supposed to be safe here
but you shouldn’t believe it.


hello? (drawing by lurm)






this drawing was created as a companion visual to the first track in my album, send or receive.

don’t touch anything

don't touch anything (drawing by lurm)
we’re making a big mistake.
treating our insides like nothing more than loose change,
mindlessly pulling our guts out through our pockets
and exchanging them for empty statements
about who we think they want us to be instead—

you know what i mean. that’s what you came here to do.

save identity

save identity (drawing by lurm)

yes; no.

have you ever left without one
or are you afraid you’ll be trapped here forever
unless you choose?

i left without one once.
i thought i did, anyway.

but now that i consider it,
it’s possible my body’s still back there.

that would actually explain a lot.

can we please go home?

can we please go home (drawing by lurm)

the train comes
so run

the noises zigzag across your forehead
hit it, make it stop
catch the train

it’s closer now

the noise gets

it comes, so
get away

but that’s impossible, you can’t run
from your own

they stomp your
feet onto the sharp rocks
and ow
i see my bones but i’m still

yes, you have a choice
it’s this:

hurt me, or

i don’t care about the fog
i have laser vision, you should get some

i know there is a
beached sperm whale with four
of its teeth ripped out
right behind you
but don’t worry
it’s dead.

there are other things to make us

but i’m so tired

will someone let me
go home?