Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Loss
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Hey, where were you on Tuesday? Random cried all day because He Was The Only One. Too much responsibility to handle! That morning, he must not have donned his big boy pants. Anyway, your cousin said you're such a "head's down" guy that she often forgets you're here/there. The Buzzard didn't know you were out…
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what you see beneath ussupporting all our doubt and despairare bankers boxes full of paperdefaced with coordinates on howwe were supposed to steer this ship now the return is delayed on our uncharted trip we may as well be carried on this tricky wind andcount all the ways we can fuck up the simplest things …
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tummy troubles and forearms marked with bruises sunny claws her way to the surface too much time has she spent in the turbulence of deep, deep love catch and detach air comes to her rescue fire keeps her in line distress calls carefully edited no one…
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Been thinking about humanity a lot in recent days. Ashes to ashes. Living on this bizarro rock has made me more amenable to escapism than usual. Escape the headlines. Escape slow-day-at-work debates about who should stay in the good ol' US of A and who shouldn't. Escape being human. It's a shame that…
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Dana tells me to keep that fucking door shut. She says every time I come back through it, I'm a different person. I ask her why's the door there if not to be opened? It's a gateway to ruin, Dana says, and you've never been able to leave the dead alone. Stay clear for once.…
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Picture the journeys we've embarked upon that have led us to this aisle, staring up at the same title, wondering if we've found that lost thing we could never quite nail down. What is found was never lost. Let go of the illusion of going with the flow. We agreed upon this meeting place —…
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yea, vow not to cut your hairfor how will the fine headed lads of that bygone surly seasonbe remembered if we tame our knots, kinks, and kurls?the bellicose boys have been felled by spoon and by fire and remain barelyone bar's worth of grace notes on a dime
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You have no discernible shape. You are all pulsating gray matter and no body. I want to give you form. I want to give you a frame from which to hang your sentiment and shame. You rise and roll right up over me. No string, no tail. Nothing to grab onto at all. My hand…
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No fairytale, this. Just fast friends, a gruesome end, and a few fond words shared at the wake. But I pretend, just to mess with make-believe, that love is a redemptive endeavor and not at all about insecurity / jealousy / obsession / regret: The two of you sip limoncello on Capri. I wait for…
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I'm sad that I'm not sad that you went out in the rushes and you never came back. Poor trade-off is what it is – no guarantee the demon'll flee after your fiery stage left exit. Who did you save? And is your good name any less difficult to pronounce now they've brought the curtain…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 