When Fern replaced Jack,
There was no turning back.
It felt like an attack,
And then the friendship cracked.
As the people chose their factions,
And Jack found himself alone,
He came to the conclusion,
Breaking free from his delusion,
That the only person’s word that he could count on was his own.

It happened rather fast,
A single moment passed.
A new transfer student,
Felt that he needed to be included.
He didn’t want to be alone,
So he found the nearest friend group,
And hoped they’d take him as their own.

He walked to the group,
Who were trapped in their coops,
Scrolling through their tombs,
Not having anything to say.
Fern cleared his throat,
His anxiety was flying high.
As he stuttered,
“H-h-hi-hi.”

The group was surprised, someone new had bothered,
To approach them,
Especially someone so nervous.
They pondered,
What his ulterior motive was,
As they looked him up and down.
Fern frowned.
Were they judging him?
His hands shook,
As sweat trickled to the ground.
Eventually, Jack got up,
Took his hand and shook it.
“I’m Jack!”
The moment,
That Jack wished he could take back.

Freshman year went on,
And nothing consequential changed.
Fern grew closer to the group,
As life kept turning the pages,
Of their stories,
Growing closer to the heartbreaking ending.

Sophomore year began,
And Jack noticed that things felt off,
Not oppressive,
But enough that he wanted it to stop.
Fern brought another friend along,
And Jack found himself sitting alone,
Fern’s friend just seemed more interesting,
Than Jack ever was.
Jack’s friends used to talk to him,
Then they didn’t.
Jack figured out right away,
That this was how it felt to be replaced.

So Jack went out of his way,
To avoid his “friends” every day.
If they didn’t care,
He wouldn’t let it tear down his sails.
It hurt,
But he knew he’d heal.
He’d leave them behind,
Clawing at his heels.

When Fern replaced Jack,
There was no turning back.
It felt like an attack,
And then the friendship cracked.
As the people chose their factions,
And Jack found himself alone,
He came to the conclusion,
Breaking free from his delusion,
That the only person’s word that he could count on was his own,
And that was okay!

I saw road **** tonight.

I was walking
on the side walk
towards home
with a buddy of mine
and he pointed it out
"Look at that
poor thing,
what is it?"

I walked
into the middle of the road
just to inspect it further.
a coat of brown spikes,
white fur, and —
bright red guts.
Fresh.

It was a hedgehog
on the spotlight
given by street lamps.
Judging by the size of the coat
it was big and fat
it reminded me
of the one I have at home.

It also made me think
of Jeffery Dahmer
what he did with road ****
and where that lead.
I'm not saying that I feel that way
but the guts were shiny
under the Moonlight
I thought that they
had this certain kind of beauty.
A dead rat
and life goes on
like nothing ever mattered.

My friend was upset
about it.
"The **** who did this
probably did it on porpuse!"

I wasn't. I was raised in a farm
I've seen worse.
"Dude,
he probably
didn't even see it
coming."

Neither of them did.

If you don't get my point,
Picture this:
One day you're walking home
with groceries
you're not paying atention
you cross the road
and there it comes
lights flashing
coming your way
no time to react —
THUMP.

You're on the floor
bleeding out.

Jesus hugged you
with that license plate
and you didn't realize it.

Anyways,
The car backs up,
turns right,
it rushes out of there.
Hit and run.
Behind the wheel?
A ******* hedgehog.

That's the beauty of it.

Life just happens
it owes you nothing
yet you think that
it owes you—
your life.

I'm cursed with a terrible mindset
I forget all the good of this world
There's evil afoot, and I know of such
but of love am I rarely reminded.

I long for the abstracted season,
when the world's undone at the seams.
When wild gods come knocking, the cradle stops rocking
and insolence bows down to reason.

I yearn for the coming of laughter.
For the chill wind to tell me the tune.
The song still resounding thereafter,
as we walk past the relics and runes.

I'd show you the gift of the rainstorm.
But few would sit and see.
The Otherland is all around.
But no one's got the key.

A muse to darkness, candle that frays,
the bud of the rose plant
sullies the brave.

A kiss under veil, decorum deceit,
the seed has been planted
and curdles beneath.

Like vines they entangle
the voice of the saint
thy soul they shall strangle
and crush, a
restraint,
chokes
the wind
of

breath comes back for a moment,
the wind howls wild for it has been defiled,
the fiend persists with ashen words
but howls protect from unholy verse.

Your wildest dream, hearts desire.
these things you've seen inside my fire.

You walked away and yet
she stands before you
her words still trickle in,
and then they floor you.