Gone.

… after she died I breathed in the sorrow of everyone else. It was so thick and so heavy. I didn’t bend. I didn’t lean. Or need from anyone. I let it all unfold, and I let them all grieve in the way they they needed to. Then, someone showed me the video of her … More Gone.

Words Sewn Together

I ache, from carrying the burden of your collected pain. Pain that you gather as you fall down in the door ways of home after home. I could decorate willow trees, with trinkets of sorrow, all yours, for miles. Sadness in every colour. But I sew it all together, instead, and remind you of the … More Words Sewn Together

Just Sad.

Intellectually – it’s easy to acknowledge that there are so many different types of people in this world, and that those different types are necessary to make it all work – all go around – all turn, so to speak. It takes the hard asses, and the soft gentle types to make the different things … More Just Sad.

Dead Meat

In rage, I imagine the suffocation of a bull, in clear plastic. Layers, and layers of clear plastic. It can fight. It can call. But it’s strength will be it’s death. It will die. It’s how I feel, and the image I rewind and pause like an old movie, when I feel this way. Pounding … More Dead Meat

Can’t Dry-Clean Wings

She fell at the gate, her name rusted over above the words ‘angels once stood proud here.’ Somewhere between the farewell handshake, and the tracks where a bookie accepted her halo as a down payment, she more than just her grace.

Refraction

Blasé, you are, over the puncture wound you left behind, just above the heart, just off center. Your surprise at my inertia. The delay in emotion. The bending of heat waves. In knee jerk anger. Smug to think that because you were the architect of my mausoleum, that somehow you could offer me your veins … More Refraction

When a Mother Does

When a Mother Does.. When a mother falls to her knees, to beg, and to pray; to crawl and to get out of the way. When a mother covers her face, and her swollen skin, to hide the burst blood vessels and her fragility within; there is no vanity there- it’s to protect her tiny … More When a Mother Does

I Don’t Know You

I hunted for you, in amongst all the garbage. You were determined to stay safe, in the familiar decay of the rotting piles of people- equally as bent on holding you down. Lies, flawless. You became the victim with such conviction. I applaud you. I wish you well, in your cardboard hell. I won’t be … More I Don’t Know You