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jagged roads

with her, i’m walking. exposed toes on jagged roads, 

made of pebbles, pebbles made of stones, 

made of boulders, boulders made from, who knows. 

ambition, a stones’ throw, a road grown, home.

each breath, extending, a finite stride, yet never-ending

pass along our final steps, ascending. pass on everything. 

pass on the pebbles made of stones. pass on the boulders made from, who knows

pass on the clothes, pass on the shoes that mute these jagged roads. 

step on the feet; the defeat of thorns, the wild ones adorn with dirty knees

step on believing we survive these things. step on the wars that make us men

step on the sights we’ll never see again. step on the day. step on the night

step on believing, despite the familiar jagged road being nowhere in sight. 

 

Print for Sale. Click photo above.

 

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I, started the words that ended, U.

there was adoration in her eyes. a spark like silence dancing naked in front of a mirror.

her tongue tasting the way it should, like honey, like lies, like a swarm of bees after the honey. those soft fingers untangling the hard knot that constricted us, those hard hands constricting the soft parts of us. it went on like this for hours, for seven lifetimes. 

the colors rose and fell and became aware of the moonlight dancing on shadows from the future.

she breathed into us one last time, shed a hard tear from her eye to mine and we collapsed within each other at the dying light of dawn when the drugs fell off and all we were left with was ourselves, entwined in the memory of tomorrow, blinded by forever. 

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Posthumous Self-Indulgent Inquires in a Final Letter to You, Old Friend.

Was it the first time in a long time you felt warm? A blanket cascade of crimson life, on loan, returning. Fast at first, I’m sure, spurting. When the blood slowed and the warmth turned cold, did you think of them? Your children? What a moment that must have been, did you think you made a mistake? Knowing you can’t reach down down down the drain and grab your life again. Cold now. Tired. Did you see the platelets struggling frantically, desperate to keep you together? Did life dry before your wet eyes? Did you know we all cared, no, we loved you and would have done anything to keep your life out of the drain. All of us, the strength, the resilience, what we would’ve done. Despite our vast reach, we still can’t pull your living parts back up now. You’re all mixed with piss and shit and shampoo and your daughter’s long blonde hair that always clogged the drain. I know, you meant to take care of that last week but didn’t get around to it. You were busy. Well, that’s what you told us. Really you were in a crippling state of desperate depression, unnecessarily battling alone. We didn’t know. You were “too strong” to let on. True strength is asking for help. That’s why I don’t understand, you were always the strong one. The one we admired. I hope you didn’t see your life coating and staining that blonde hair you used to brush. I hope that didn’t make you think about her first haircut or the time you were teaching her to ride her bike and she fell off and got that scar on her forehead, the one you used to kiss every night as she fell asleep. No one to kiss away her pain now. I hope you didn’t think of all that between the time you opened yourself and when your eyes closed the very last time.
Anyway, tell the other guys I said hello, I love them, and that we are all doing our best to take care of each of your daughters now.