It hurt to try and open it.
So, I did what I’ve always done
and went to a pub to read a book.
Only this time, I was in the book.
The bar was full so I stood in the corner
and ordered a dark beer.
The noise from the many conversations
faded, as they always do when I read,
but when I touched the book it felt electric.
“Here I am,” I thought. “About to read my own story.”
But I couldn’t do it. I opened the book to page 62.
Hell, I even took a picture.
But I couldn’t read my short story.
I couldn’t even get beyond the second line.
I’m not sure why. I don’t know what happened.
I’ll most likely read all the others and never read mine.
Later – pushed thoughts will blister,
tips of trees will burn-
Come, stand on the edge and view this-
A young boy sat on a stump. He closed his eyes counting numbers. Having found seven of them he opened his eyes and was home. His mother was crying. His father was not. He closed his eyes again and found a stone to skip. “Can I have the stone again?” The stone was taken by the water.
When I listen to Control’s
passive aggressive denials
I see insecurities dripping
from tongues, hands, and
eyes. -A balanced flower
leans toward the light.
They say to pick your battles.
I say choose your victories.
Sent from my iPhone
Our internal peace is unequaled
Let no jealousy from another
Disturb your peace of mind
Sent from my iPhone
The nakedness of a child escorts thoughts. I remember his first hours of life, choking, his mother shivering violently. I held his tiny body upright. Walk with me, it’s like a thought, it can be a nothing and grow into an unviolated membrane we observe until it, itself, observes back. A metamorphosis, if you will.
An old tree has more life in a twisted
dying branch than a perfectly placed
white picket fence, with buried judgement-
aligned with its perched front porch-
full of toes that step harshly on the planks giving
splinters which were born by the seed of the
twisted branch; you have a lot to learn old man.
Sadness is blank
It pulls relentlessly until
there’s nothing left to feel
And we’re there
One year ago was a very unfriendly time for my family. I thought I might be fine. I am not.