Inner Monologue

He's so far away So far.. he might as well be God. Apparently ubiquitous, but demonstrably aloof and nebulous. What the fuck do you want? Do you even want? Are you even in there? Are you even here? As you sit across the kitchen table behind the Sunday Times newspaper (stop sipping the coffee like … Continue reading Inner Monologue

Los’

Brawling vet. Sweat, breath, blood, Bear the placenta. Oh, sunken eye, hard cheeks and rugged jaws. Grow pain, Pensive lines and darkening dimples. The road slams at you and all the ways scatter - fizzzle sparkle - into the ether, From whence you came, The sister to that which made you undone.

Hollow

Feed me my cracked heart I scoffed the soot, I drank it all Churned it all. Burned like ash, Breathed like earth, Cracked like hearth. Peeling. Hollow. Find me, A sharpened knife A daggered grave, An endless grief. Straining. Hollow.

Fine

Not everything should make you happy. Not everything should make sense. Not everything has a point. Not everything should make you happy. Not everything should make you happy. Not everything should make you happy. ...make you happy, ...make you happy. ...make you happy. And that's fine.