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b Aug 2018
i hope to one day
find love so strong
that i see the streets
as pavement. and not
the spaces around
my shoes.

id love to tell you
all about the mountains,
but the truth is
i dont care.
not yet anyway.
a mountain is just
something else
i cant enjoy on my own.

leave a knife
in your thigh and
try to write about
anything else.

until real love
hits me like a hook
to the nose
ill live in hopes quicksand.
sinking with a smile.
b Aug 2018
it should have been
41 degrees today.
the hottest day of summer.
i prepared.
i wore shorts to work.

it rained like
noah's flood.
i didnt see it coming
but i heard the rumbles
like drums from hell.

i wrote words for jane
and i never thought
id ever show her.

i read her two poems
and she liked the one
that wasnt about her
much more.

it should have been
41 degrees today.
b Aug 2018
teach me how to waltz
and youll be the first to see
life in these old legs.
b Aug 2018
great writers make
names of their hometowns.
i am no great writer.

no great writer
could make something
of this nothing.
b Aug 2018
you can only see orion
in winter
she says.
i make pretend.
if minds are swords
than i am dull twice over
and she is
battle ready.

i cook a meal
so tender in
the moment.
when it ends i will
crash back
to the bottom
i know.

i get a little
too personal by the fire.
id love to say
i dont care
and mean it,
but that would
be a load of ****.
i am a ***** for
validation i will pay
you for it.

orion died for
sagittarius.
what a beautiful
way to go.
b Aug 2018
i wake to
the rhythm of the birds.
its a day ill live
and forget.
it starts with
grey rain but i have
nothing to do
other than drink
with friends
so what does it matter.

i do not walk alone.
i am not drunk
i can still see the work.
there is real forgetting
going on, and i am sleeping
there. i have made
my peace with battles.
just let me drink
with friends.

i end in bed,
shaking to old wounds.
a creature from the
water, i cant swim
so i cant be hurt. it saves
lives and i need saving.
only a match that
perfect could end
so poorly.
b Aug 2018
its an all time
line in the sand.
a prize fighter with
a weak chin. swings
so fast he knocks
himself over.

if i could write the next
great american novel
maybe i could get
some rest. but i do enjoy
the comfort
in knowing
how out of reach it
all feels.

i can finally die
on the highway
while every other
fool like me
gets to ride
the tread in my
wounds.

its always been
about the chase.

dont forget.
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