There once was a boy who lived in a hole. There in the warm, musty darkness where roots embraced him, he hid from the bright world outside. He hid from the loud, the violent and crude. He hid from the harm they’d done. They found him cringing that meekest of creatures, pushed in a corner […]
If this hurt of teeth and talons renders numb Or slashing words and blunt-nosed answers Tied up with twine, perhaps a handcuff, too Fails to bring a stinging stimulus Then what’s the point in pain, my love If ever there was one, yes, if ever Has it vanished, upped and left, retracted Fluttered away on […]
Unheard In the silent hours Our screams are shouted loudest Without listeners
￼ In spilled ink are truths found As we bleed across pages Stanzas formed from our pain Paragraphs, our experiences Waiting for those rivers of us To congeal into certainties Certain kinds of truth Yet like the blood in our wounds They merely crust As imperfect finishes Upon imperfect souls They scab. They hurt This […]
Hurt my back burying the wife.
￼ She locked her case but not the door, closed her purse but not the gate. She walked from her street but not from her pain; it would take many more miles. Yet, each step, each new foot of concrete, soil and grass brought her story closer to one outcome: hers.
￼ The problem with migraines is they're unwelcome. Kind of like snowstorms during Wimbledon, or Godzilla stepping on the final pair at The Masters just before sinking their final puts, migraines suck. Unsatisfactory outcomes, migraines twist and turn and churn and scratch. However, they do give you something to write about.
Pain: a word with infinite definitions, incomparable extremes. She knows them all. All. There's a girl in a mirror in a house in a street in a country that doesn't want her from a land that wished her gone. Is it pain reflected in that little girl's eyes? Is it?
Undisclosed I loved her with a passion that tore at my soul. Whenever I imagined those deep, hazel eyes it felt like my skin had snagged on a briar and wouldn’t let go. To have torn at it would have meant tearing at me and I’d already lost too much of myself. I shredded by […]
Melodious, she sang, Like a bird in the meadow Awake to the day; Trilling to the heavens And chirping to the flowers, She praised the day, The night, the dusk, the dawn. It mattered not who heard, What they thought, What they said; She sang relentless, Regardless, with all her heart. And for a moment, […]