THE DEAD

The grass is still wet And the ground is warm Roots drink in water Ants make their tunnels Worms lazily burrow A symphony of sounds If one could hear them Through soil and stone But the dead don’t hear Not like the living do The dead are listening The way the universe does

SELF HATE

Sometimes you hate yourself And you think everyone else Should hate you too So you make up reasons And concoct scenarious That prove that it’s true Because if it’s true then You don’t have to focus On why you hate yourself And you can begin To defend yourself From the other person And then maybe…

ALWAYS THE END

Small, thin, malleable Strands of long, skinny wire Twisted and woven Between bone and sinew Positive connecting negative Animation progressing Pieced together leftovers A created strength She walks through Sleeping ghosts Hungry zombies And broken humans Searching for survivors

JUST BREATHE

The world It expands It contracts It breathes Deep yawns Giant exhales And I here I am Tasked with Holding on As it slowly Sucks in life Before spitting It out again

THE SANDS FALL

Sometimes I can feel it The fading or the leaving The small ways of ending It’s slight and unassuming Just a strange passing And it feels like indifference But it’s tricky that way Because it’s the opposite It’s the fear snaking around It’s the worry and anxiety Whispering so very softly Before the noise buries…

UNRAVELING

It was perfect A sphere String Wrapped up Just sitting Silent On her lap Sunshine colors Soft to touch Strong fibers Destined For greatness Before suddenly Falling hard To the floor Unraveling Unraveling Unraveling Unraveling Unraveling

TUMBLEWEED

I tore out all my hair And watched it Like a tumbleweed Float softly like Cotton candy strings Dancing in the breeze Further and further Away from me Never again a part of me

LEFT BEHIND

Sometimes the walls cry Flooded by waterfalls Stones crumble then fly Leaving a pile a mile high Carvings on pieces Blood splatter dialog Rooms left behind Flooded and drained Moldy rotting floors Splinter weak doors Rooms left behind But never forgotten

THE PAST

A cavalcade of horrors Abominable explorers March around the face Barely keeping pace Ticks marking seconds As the past steadily beckons Hands running retrograde The harvester already paid Searching all the memories For every infernal enemy Be careful what you chose To reverse, repeat, rewind You have only everything to lose