I’d rather it be me, than you, You ask why. Because I know what’s on the other end. An intensity, A tightness That won’t let go. It grips you, And holds you hostage Silent to its prey. I’d rather it be me, than you. But wait, Then it’d be you.
My eyes too unsteady, As it hits. Focus, blurr I try again Closed then opened Rubbed raw Blinking World is shaky Untamed Unknown Spaced out Trying to snap out Ending at a compromise Tilt slightly to the left And I am somewhat free
Blankly, gazing out at you Void of everything I once knew. A pickle jar, Emptied. Tongue’s grit Rough and sore. ~~~ Don’t spoil Your sour mood, For me. Or anyone. But lick your lips, And twist tight, What you might. Until the seal stops, And your wounds have healed. ~~~ Words retracted, Or withheld. Kept … Continue reading Pickled Crow – July 26, 2019
Lingering in my lust, For what I can no longer touch. Breathing fire, To taste the Sweetness. Dessert before dinner Leaves nothing Forward, After it’s expired. To begin again, One foot heads In a direction While the other tarries In the hunger I’ve built up For you.
Disturbed. A lifetime used To wonder, But never reach out. ~~~ Time is dirty, Muddy prints left. Tracking down Nostalgia lane. ~~~ Doors opened, That should have stayed closed. Latched and locked, But picked with curiosity. ~~~ Trouble spilling on the floor, Swept clean. Specks of dust remain, Undisturbed. ~~~ It is present, But invisible. … Continue reading The Passerby – July 31, 2019
Filling up my puddle, Splish, splash. Pity party for one, please.
Shaking~rumbling~ Blow, blow, blow! Feel it, grab it Ride on!