Crumpled maybes dunked in sin
no one to cheer, 3-pointers go in.
Silence: loud, no effort in clouds
mind trapped, feeling like an exile.

A pause, not in play,
my mind’s gone away–
Tahiti! with ***, my new child.

Warm beach ’neath my feet,
parties sans the beat,
endless walks free in denial.

Can’t settle too long;
avoiding poems in song.
Trash packed with thoughts I’ve compiled.

The pool is the gate

through which you can escape, if --


you are not afraid.

it's quite lonesome by myself
no one to talk to
no one to hang out with
so, I detach from reality
engrossed in my phone
or my tv
disappearing into another world
to escape from my loneliness
my bed is my vessel to transport me
into another setting
tv shows and instagram
are my loophole
else I wallow in despair
as the loneliness seeps into my bones

Under-paid, fed up
Over-worked, had enough
Lotto on, good luck

***** to get you loose
From this noose
Called ‘life’
Coke and a smoke
Adrenaline and hope
Popping pills
Just for the thrills
**** and speed
Cause you to want be free
Then some brown
You’ve had enough
And just want to escape what’s around
You do it to forget
With regret
But the only real drug in life
Is having life left

Through the fence, we slipped,
scratched and torn,
but the world behind us
was nothing—
this was ours.

Rubber giants piled high,
a kingdom built from wreckage,
the smell of earth and metal
mixing with the air we claimed.
We whispered our plans,
wild as the grasshoppers we caught—
sting and laughter tangled together
as we spun tales of escape.

The owner’s anger didn’t faze us,
her shouts just wind
against the roar of our hearts.
We built our thrones
in crooked trees,
a couch our crown,
leaning like a dream too big to stand.
The go kart didn’t run,
but we rode it anyway,
down the hill that should’ve swallowed us whole,
laughing at danger,
at the world that couldn’t keep up.

Bruised and broken,
we held each other,
fighting wars we couldn’t win
except here,
in the tire club.
In this space,
we were never less than fierce,
our bond woven
with the secrets we kept
and the mischief we shared.
A sacred place—
where the world outside couldn’t touch us,
where we were fireproof,
surviving everything
but the burn of our own laughter.

Clear the way!
Can't you feel the rain?
It is soft now,
But it bares its bite.
Clear this road so the carriage men may run,
Gather your families, be ready to leave.
Here it comes,
The storm! Can't you see?
Don't you feel these winds ripping up this land,
Get away while you can,
Or die with the land.