Moss gathers and the trees grow. Under the pale blue sky. In the summer time, the heart flows upwards and over into the mouth, into the body. How my mind keeps spinning, talking, creeping until words are strained, weakened and colorless. There under the trees, laying flat on my back I wait for the worms…
Category: Poetry
Free Hand #33
I spoke words, that dripped and dewed across your head. As you laid there, waiting for the sun to rise, waiting for me to leave your side. The words they gathered, till you were slick and wet, crystallized and waiting, waiting, waiting. If you are reading this thank you for taking time out of your…
Free Hand #32
The sky buckles under the pressure space pulls us into a void. Sun envelops itself, swells and becomes something grander, something dark. An eternal abyss to swallow us whole. If you are reading this thank you for taking time out of your day to read my writing! I hope you will return in the…
Free Hand #31
Books stacked high. The pages slip out, slip through, into the the room, piling up on the floor, the bed, every surface. Until there are words everywhere. If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing! I hope that you will return in the future!…
Free Hand #30
I keep my secrets where the sun meets the mountains. The whispers that deepen and the moon that glows holds me down and spills my guts until I am nothing but bone. If you are reading this thank you for taking time out of your day to read my writing! I hope that you…