there is a heavy stillness in the silence
that precedes the words of man
who thinks he is right
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC
My laurels means nothing
They're tenderly held together by
cheap glue and crumble to ash
a little bit more every time I touch them
yours are made of gold and sapphire
they're sturdy and I bet if they fell
they'd hold together nicely
but they've never fallen
gravity doesn't seem to affect you the way
it does me
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 7:38 PM UTC
I often complain about my cot
nestled neatly in the shadows
of the mighty mountains.
I run my mouth in agony instead of my feet.
My mind wanders.
My body freezes under the sunless shade.
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 7:36 PM UTC