Forgotten Gardenas we wander we find a forgotten garden, lost and abandoned by time. hand in hand we explore, treading lightly through the graveyard. sad stones litter the somber space, broken monuments that once stood tall and full of life; neat trimmed edges now run rampant, wild with nature. sand has crept through the barren roots, bearing itself to the empty sky; once fertile soil has withered and dried, a husk of memory. no fruit shall come of this bare harvest. only fierce weeds remain, feral vines surrounding old flowers that lie still where they died, helpless in their hopelessness. threading gently we tread the scattered path; the broken shells of tForgotten Garden
The Golden Boys of SummerThe Golden Boys of SummerThe Golden Boys of Summer
soft, supple skin not yet weathered
by the weariness of time and sand stretches over knotted bodies. standing tall, bronze statues shine, still proud, erect, muscular- lovely in the glow of youth.
single minded in their pursuit, they chase pink ribbons with olympian vigor;
shirtless and immortal, they scoff
at so-called “wisdom” of those who came before. no patient waiting clouds their eagerness.
life beats fiercely in their chests. with every pulse victory, with every word fire-
none can stand against such beauty.
Second City Plans“Second City Plans”Second City Plans
You’re leaving tomorrow, but at least we have tonight. What were the chances? An hour ago I was screaming down a sled hill, exhausted from work but worked up for sledding, beer in my hand and snow in my pants. A nothing phone call sent me on a wild goose chase, worried for my brother from another mother (who was fine, silly me) that ended at the fancy dress party house (didn’t get invited and wouldn’t have gone). Roaming through the drunk quarters seeking information, mission objectives on my mind, you were the last thing I expected. Remember the stunned silence, the sudden awkward shift of perspective and par
The TruthI got a phone call today it seemed innocent enough, she probably just wants to check up, or tell me she loves me she's crying! what's wrong, what happened, did you have a bad day? I see . . . no I'm not mad, I'll call you back later.The Truth
grand theft auto splattering
faces with hardwood bats slicing up hookers and carving up cops in my ears heavy metal satan shit souless screams from tormented teens my room is a warzone my
car a casualty of combat ventalating walls with my fists i'm
rocky with nothing to fight for seething marching cigarettes
no i'm just good
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Today is not a dress rehearsal
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Today is not a dress rehearsal
Well, I exaggerate, but that's different. Exaggeration is like lying that you can't get in trouble for.
And who knows, maybe writing all these stories about funny things that happened to me and the people I love will bring me back to writing again, and I can start telling stories I've wanted to tell for a long time now.
Probably not. I think someone left the TV on, and as a result I am powerless to function.
ˇÁndale, ándale, ARRIBA!
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No hay nada mejor que perderse
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