Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Shannon Aug 2018
The only time in an ordinary life that dying seems beautiful is when you are a teenager. That beautiful time where your skin is tightly wrapped around you like Saran Wrap and your mind believes every tear you push out of your eyes matters, counts towards something. You cry because your heart got broken? That matters, put it in your portfolio of beautiful broken pieces. You cry because you did not make the team/the grade/the cut/the audition/the clique/the bus … all of these things matter when your book is full of hauntingly empty pages. What nobody tells you is that once you fill your book with these small slights, you have less and less pages left for the big stuff that’s coming. The big stuff that should really fill your book. By the time you have something to write in your big book of beautiful broken pieces, you’ve filled it with so much crap and nonsense that there is nothing left to say.
I have nothing for you then.
Stop readingStop mother ******* reading.
I have nothing.
I am ******* empty.
I have nothing.
This was the beginning of a short story I am writing. I came back to it a bit later and think it would make a great essay.
Shannon Aug 2018
Ginger beer
In the hemisphere
celestial haze
Quasar waves.
Shooting stars
and loud guitars
Wanderlust
and cosmic dust.


Sahn 07/17
Shannon Aug 2018
Blanket of blackest wool above
Bleeding yellow in the out-there
And on the  wooden chairs painted white
we sit to watch.
63 moons glide gracefully
and say the things
that move from tongues to fingertips
Because touch
Lands sooner than the bitter words
It was under the nebulae
Where you gave me a ring
which you slung round a planet
with a ladder and rope
and you gave me a promise that is hung round the sun
so I jump up ride it when it if it orbits me slowly
In a moment of tiny, of small and sooner.
in a moment that's billions
of miles away
so before we we've been born
and before we've been lovers-
a star somewhere tucked our whole story away.
I will find us a night cloud
thick with our longings
and send it out shining to sell to the night.
Yes, I'll pack it up warmly
and hold it quite tightly then send it out sailing on
night after night.




SAHN 07/18
Shannon Aug 2018
Shards of the glass pierce my atmosphere-
Rocket Ships to the floor beneath.
And as the red wine swells to pools beneath my feet
I am swaying to the music of momentum-
Just enough so one might see,
That beautiful whole that once was me.




Sahn 7/26/17
Shannon Oct 2017
The water that is crushing me
is keeping me afloat.
I cannot feel the ground beneath,
and I'm not sure I can stand.
The pressure that is bearing me
is holding all my insides in
No longer see a shoreline
and I can't know I won't drown.
As I navigate myself,
and twist to find my East and West
I realize I've made quite a mess-
Left my compass with a gull.
The bird you see,
liked shiny things
and as I thought I had no use
for which direction
I might take
I felt it
quite an easy trade-
the weight of choices off my hands
And the bird with flightpath clear.
The sodden feel of water now
has permeated all my pores
and left me to shed salty tears
My feet ache for the ground.
I will tumble like the seaglass
with each wave my edges blur
perhaps the the sea will make me clean
Stripped of sin
and stripped of ache.
Perhaps this long night will end soon
If I can just
keep
floating
just keep
treading water...
just a while more.

Sahn
10/30/17
Thank you for taking the time to read my work. Comments and critiques welcome. I'd love you to add me so I can see and read your work as well.
Shannon Oct 2017
I got loadbearing feet.
-18 wheeler legs.
drag my demons and devils
in the tanker behind
I stand tall,
Oh this weight.
"She's a good one,"
they'll say,
not understanding
How fast I can leave.
"If you catch her-
there's  cement foundation
under the moss that
grows over her faith."
Hurricane glass in my ocean gray eyes
I've got steel framed thoracic spine
that holds my haul steady.
I tied down my baggage
with bungee and coil.
I've got road ready feet
as there's asphalt that's burning.
I've got weight bearing soul-
and spare beneath the hood,
I've got to keep it moving though
As I'm just passing through.

Sahn
2/9/15
I am grateful for those who share in the my passion. Please say hello, please feel free to suggest.
Shannon Jul 2017
Broken piece pierce the atmosphere.
Rocket ships  to the floor beneath.
Shards of shimmering fragments form
Sharp edges rocking
Swaying to the music of momentum.
Just enough so one might see,
That beautiful whole that once was me.

Sahn 7.17
Next page