Fragment 27.45

Aren’t you just the cutest little fear filled spook dressed in my favorite reds and porcelain milk for a softer, silky shell, a breath or two out of winter’s den. You feel free to keep  haunting, nonetheless.


Fragments 20.4

One million and one pieces of my love,

Out windows,

All along 4 thousand miles of highway.

Never sure I’m getting them to come on back home.

All the boys there,

Looking a lot like a thousand year old you.

The special air,

Just a small little group of Appalachian hereditary.

Sweet as could be,

Dead set on winning me-

Whether it be pumping gas,

Petting dogs,

Racing 4 wheelers,

Coffee with a Kermit or two.

Looking a whole lot like you.

What a concept,

Guess I’ll take

A bakers dozen

Or whatever .

Of the person I thought was such a rarity, looking a whole hell of a lot like that smooth boy writing me songs, like you.

Or maybe this blondish one carrying a hard case of the Memphis blues I’ve been listening to religiously lately.

Now my world turned completely askew and did life play the cosmic karmic joke on me, or you?

Just wanted my friend back, countless times  boo. In the French word for beautiful sense. Still are, common or not.

Fragment 22.6


A special place for damned shadows,

Damned rain,

Damned hearts,

Damned pain,

Never ending sorrows,

Never ending names,

Never ending not agains.


Clicks ticking,

Clock chimes,



Just gathering a salty brine.

Ice cold breathing,

Hearts stopped beating with melodic rhymes.


Until the word…sometime,

Worth not much more than every other faded looking dime.

Please keep the nickel coated apprehension, trade it in for a life of living next time.

Fragment 22.5

Wrap me completely into your violent shiver.

Stick your fervor to my ribs,

Until the tar of your cinders

Swallows me whole.

Bury deeper,

The moans stuck behind the bone when it collides into the loss of chastity.

Dangle this body from the stars you have collected,

Until a silver lining coaxes death from the gallows of time to share a dream,


a drive to all the infinity of the ochre light that keeps touching the clouds while we sleep.

Then we’ll know,

The languages of tomorrow and all the ways sunrises dance gleefully into existence when no one’s looking.

Fragment 21.3

Little oak,

Small longing,

Ash and coals pressed between you and me.

Twilight sagas,

Chain smoking collectors of reveries.

I’d become one too,

If your lips weren’t in complete control of this dying inside of me.

The rawness,

In all it’s animal glory,

Becalms a monstrosity always eating at my moments.

I want to suckle away your pain,

As your mouth sucks my body into the stars we made with soft, feral kisses from other lovers sitting too close to our steam.


Living awhile on pheromones,

And flesh,

And flaws,

And meat stuck between our teeth.

Until I’m solidified with a fire only home between the destruction of it all and the needs.

Looming Velocipede Know as Sister-yphus


Full of doubt


Waiting with out.

The tears comfort themselves now

Because I’m always such a fool

For how words form

In that beautiful mouth.

I’m sodden now with

All the things you can’t with.

Even showers neglect to clean me

Before dusk falls on my thoughts.

My heart sings believe

My smart mind knows better

No matter how much your touch

Brings life back to my shatteredness.


Why rolling heavy losses up mountain tops,

As I wait for years of time to finally catch up.

Even I was unaware the torture

Would eventually turn on itself.

Nothing left of this field of sweet

smells, black top, and hopeless tires rolling as intended wanting to miss

the boulder set to meet me at sunset with only a man running the

opposite direction instead of

towards the helplessly lost.

Brace for impact.

Or not.

Hemlock Realities


Some times,

Fantastic fantasy grabs ahold

Leaving nothing but this mirrored,

Narrowed view,

While separating one

Onto a mountain top,

With a back drop painted with well intentions.

But it ends up looking more like something,

You painted with hazardous paint,

From your childhood dreams.

That you eventually must eat.

The convulsing doesn’t seem to stop,

Nor does the hole in your chest

Pump an adequate amount of blood

Until you pour more idealism on top of them.

Then you spend so many moons and moods trying to feel human again.


You really aren’t.

You’ve been cast by your school bully,

Just playing their interpretation of you.

Everyone eventually so shocked,

They just sit by,

Speaking in hushed tones to your facsimile,

Hoping for you,

The breaths will slowly return,

The sky will clear-

So you can figure out what you need to finally do

To take care of you.

Trying to remember it.

A funeral but for the things I have to tell myself sometimes to just breathe.

A eulogy for all the things turreted towards me I thought I could help, or fix, or get back on track but never did.

A pyre lit for all the potential I see in people that they never discovered of themselves burning with the oil made of the pain that has resulted because of this.

What do people do after this?

Lost broken hope,

Every bit deep enough inside themselves just hoping one day it’s a Pandora’s box with someone else opening it thousands of years away unleashing it’s empathy back into light.

If I had hope currently, I’d believe that but it must have gone in with the rest while I wasn’t paying attention. 

So I’ll just wait here. Because I’m tired of kind of always just holding it up anyway. I probably deserve a break. 

Fragment 17.000

Poor thing,

tired and dirty ❤️

Was hoping I would want to write more when I arrived but it seems as though I’m still just caught in the ocean of some strange tide.

However, happy I did not surprise anyone because really that was a ghost from a former life I should not have ever wasted a thought on. I think I’ve always known I had no loyalty to seek there. Being so busy now, it’s just exhausting expelling my energy on mummified peach seeds that once brought comfort. Plus, I’ve learned a lot about love since then. I want the kind, that just fits. If it’ll have me eventually that is.

Suppose that’s growth or me seeking more fun in my life? Who knows?

I’m gunning for more unsolicited adventures in my life, what a riot just little pit stops were even