tyler-lingWhisper

American

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farmHorse heads tucked away / beneath your sheets / pigs root in the grass and the goats gently bleat.

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935

To LiveWhen he was revealed to you to be naught but ash and stone / his eyes burnt dusty grey that of a thousand campfires grown cold / to feel not

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12/30/11Showering in creeks, eating stolen carrots and potatoes we were poor, but we were happy. Fools, destitute, introverted, lonely. Words were used to describe us but we cared not for the likes of a greater world, we valued the small things, took enjoyment of a long forgotten life known only in books and songs. / We would surely break ourselves, they said, come wandering home with ribs poking / through skin, sunken eyes, callouses and blisters.

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