All I think of when I see these boots is a hand full of dimes squeaking at me through the leather and broken soles that seem to grind my feet to the ground All I see is a row of wooden picture frames and I … Continue reading When I See These Boots
While I watched you dying I drew a portrait of myself Years I was trapped gasping and crying and knowing you helped me live with myself The way this offer feels I just might accept it. Comfort can’t be felt nor the pain, And promises … Continue reading While I Watched You Dying
Head turned to what I hear got a heart full of iron hard as diamonds hiding in the leaves of some great intrusion some great suffering. Life fire I have drowned out life fire I have lain down strike fire with days gone blow fire, … Continue reading The End Means the End
“Talking can be love too,” said he who lives in a house where no one speaks unless spoken to. “Virtue, too, can be a vice. Virtue isn’t always so nice. Neither is silence without another point of view. I just want to speak to you, … Continue reading Talking Can Be Virtue Too
I see the field, feel it beneath my shoes as I run behind you, the scent of your hair in my nose, along with the wet grass. It is early in the day. You are younger, but I sense you were once older, perhaps someone I knew once before, someone I looked up to, someone for whom it scared me through five lifetimes to be without, yet knowing once more we would be together. Yes, the day and the season are early. I can see it clearly.
I am ugly beautiful.
You were beautiful ugly.
Ah, but the omniscient author foresees having to convince you of that. I will try to convince you while you mind pulse message friends and family. When our tongues meet we will again know each others’ thoughts, and to whom they reach out. Are we going to be ready for that pain again?