Crashes about on rocks
Sharp, cutting, slicing
The wind keeps following
Pushing me to move
But I don’t want to, can’t
Legs feel like headstones
As sand etches words
Into my broken skin
My lips hide from hope
As my heart leaps
And falls back again
A painfully dark cycle
I stand as a wall against
The threatening storm
And I will die fighting
That which is stronger
And braver than I am
HASTYWORDS 
Hasty, you are stronger and braver than you know.
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I wish there believed that
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Hasty conjures a storm.
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Hasty conjures a storm.
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There are those of us who would shelter you. 🙂
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Thought I’d stop by, reminisce those tales we’ve shared in words and that cacophony jungle of poet copy, of tough times, laughter, sad, happy, long and short tales to the moment, past, future, all the traveling and their roads at lost ends or found places, falling, landing and scrapping a new way back up between eve and nights end – looking for all the shinny pieces in the rain and wind before sun shine wakes a sleepy day from its daze awake, like a fresh breeze on ones face… hazy days.
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