"sturgis" poems
She hugged me, and I breathed in deep.
Better than any perfume or cologne in the world, I know that smell.
It's the scent of a thousand lost boy summers fighting pirates and chasing shadows.
It's rust dust and rail yards and campfire smoke.
It's gypsy smiles and moldy locks and secrets whispered through the trees.
It's waking up to gentle words from complete strangers we connected with the night before.
It's the scent of broken lips and battered kisses the morning after sturgis.
It's the sun glistening off an oil stain on the highway.
It's the scent of river washed clothes and ticks and lice and fleas and kids named after all those things.
It's a scent of secret love affairs, and ****** exploration and anarchist propaganda.
It's the smell of the E.L.F. And the Crimethinc. Ex Workers Collective. It's the smell of the Wobblies.
But mainly, it's a smell that reminds me that they are still out there, laying in wait, in the shadows of the broken fence in the rail yard. Arms willing to hold you and fight for you, and never let you go.
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
Morning
Touch the darkest shade of me, missing dads embrace killing me how i cant see my face, believed since my hikikomori
Always had a date, i'm attacked by fakes doing my years on this island praying for a quiet night and...
He was my friend and you played with his heart like its tennis, he's atrophied and doesn't have time to put in, disturbing the tranquility
Subtlety, with those flying white kites scarce of their integrity, if you feel that way i hope you're satisfied
Out the soul, i gotta focus on family problems while mommy making solid amity offerings
Back switch, no fraternity, no honesty just a couch covered in green, i'm the burgundy
Head lopsided, stomach growling. scanty pride, slim chance of lies from me
There's no worst feelin' then waking up and not knowing why you feel so empty, not hungry but G.A.D got me walking with a time limit
Only happy with a clutter of my nig's, don't sass when i'm hectic, two boxs of cig's now its getting mephitic
I'm pathetic, i know they said it, even though they're not looking my way, against it in sturgis, i misinterpret like this
Morning
Burdens on my skin, belly of her lungs, moms been smoking again, losing the negativity but choosing my belief
Throw my virginity off the balcony? cause everyone is into me? you must still be sleeping, you must still be dreaming
You're nineteen, said you're impressed by my aplomb and i try really hard even when you're on my phone, i apologized for my anxiety, for my inability to process equanimity
You're nineteen, i don't really care that you're older, i must be a loner? all i need is your closure, illegal so we gotta think it over
Of course i hate my foes, history repeats and that's how it goes, hearts gold when my soul is sold, brothers?man have plenty of those
sinking, drowning in life. overly suicidal holding my fathers rifle
Riddled from my past, tell the preachers and satan'll ask
Touch the darkest shade of me, missing dads embrace killing me how i cant see my face, believed since my hikikomori
I'm fifteen
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
William Harley and the brothers Davidson
Built their motorcycles just for fun.
They never knew their bikes would urge us
To drink cold beer in the town of Sturgis.
.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 12:51 PM UTC