There is this placein which I can feelmy body embracing the pavement and the smell of iron as my blooddrips leaving a corpse for another to findthis place it’s very real this place I’m speaking ofin which we spend our limited time here preparing for a place we can’t seecan’t feelcan’t hearand in preparation ofContinue reading “Embracing the pavement.”
Tag Archives: poetry
I live here.
I’m not living for what may happenI live for what is happening this life right now here in this place in which I can think in which I can feel in which I can hear in which I can smell I can seeI live hereand even if I lost my senses I would know thisContinue reading “I live here.”
Can we just live?
I’m going to dieYou’re going to dieHe’s going to dieShe’s going to dieThey’re going o die It’s going to dieHe/She/Them/They They’re all going to die…Till then can we just live? No…We have opinions to give ideals to push thoughts to givethoughts to take. Living without fight would be an impossibility when each and everyis fightingContinue reading “Can we just live?”
The evil we evade is all of us.
The most painful thought that clutches my brain digging in and replacing hope is that the evil we evade is all of us. There is no group we could confine within cellsor burry within our soilsto vanish the evil and live within purity because humans are animals. It’s not the rich aloneit’s not ethnicity it’sContinue reading “The evil we evade is all of us.”
I’m real because I can be.
I’m real because I can beI have nothing to hideno appearances to keep upI’m just a nameless person because I am not known in a world of somebodies writing off wordsletting go of thoughts existing herethe same as youthe somebodies and all the others forgotten names trying to exist knowing they exist and wondering isContinue reading “I’m real because I can be.”
A pile of spaghetti.
I want to be patient able to calm my mindlistennot reacta supportive bodynot a pile of spaghetti to slip upon when walking through the kitchen you’re holding a knife in your handgashing bits of skin as you slip I don’t want to be torment I want to be a happy feeling not the coldest partContinue reading “A pile of spaghetti.”
The feeling feeders.
They crawlthey get inthey get outnestling within the dirt. The feeling feedersexpand, growing largerthey want a releasethey want to speakand me listen and I can’tbecause I am not selfless. In the dirt they multiply eating the neighborhood taking it inletting it out in their squeaks they want us to listen their stories exhausting and I’mContinue reading “The feeling feeders.”
A shovel in the holethrowing about the excesstrying to make it largerdigging about they’re going to find it. Pacing in the cell awaiting the final callit’s their choice waiting and pacing. A few holes air, there is airbreathe quick slow it down just a tick. All shook up their hands moving fasta headache setting inContinue reading
They all spoke.
They all spokemany wordsand they all wrote them down quickly and with passion feeling a matter of connectivity liking is what they didand posting pictures of their dayscommenting and sharingand when they met face to facethey’d smile with a how is your day?an expectation of one wordgoodand when more was sharedthey courtessly exited the conversation.Continue reading “They all spoke.”
Change is somewhere.
A few cents to sparechange is somewherecluttering up surfacesrarely brought out for purchases. Spot me $150to give back to that debt for me and then I’ll rummage through just to find you a few centsadd it up to several bucks not worth rent. I’ll donate to charity when the billionaires are down to their penniescountingContinue reading “Change is somewhere.”
Temperamentally Tina 