The sad part about Atlas: When he shrugged, no one came to rub menthol cream over his bruised shoulder.
Category Archives: Poetry
It’s Pronounced Bæzəl
Listen to the elders. Their beseeching spilt over dry leather cracks and smoked spices. Painful cinnamon with a hint. Piscine odored mist upon the bridge connecting feelings to one so bereft, so clouded...
Darkness says she’s not left-handed
Gentle ambition lives among the fears of wasted breath. No sooner had I clung to this revelation than the cliff stopped abruptly at the entrance of my fall. Honestly, rude.
recycled musings
Autumn, we look back, who am I? I thought you were... supposed to know. A sliver in tune with cracks in my voice reflected on lustrous cheeks. Another dead-leaf labyrinth to roam alongside gentle kisses of burnt, balsam breeze.
turtle dove x bellyup
A reworking of the original turtle dove.
around you
Do that thing again. You cry while I hold you, like the little baby I am. Don’t look now, but wow, I’ve never fucked up so completely. Oh wait, yes I have.
Theunderbar
Should I die tonight, does this legacy of rambling so easily capture as the dry moans of midnight thunder, the shaken masses; flashing my love letters down deep thrombosis of their breaths. Licking clean their contented smiles, byte by byte.
Soft Landings
The saddest realization of all: that happiness does not breed romance. Destined for solitude until the need arises. A meaningful day within a meaningless life. I accept your cordial invitation to a humble doom - to always fall back in love. A wolfish grin tailored by sheep.
Scribbles 'n Bits 