Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

I’ve stretched out my soul to widen my shadow, the only part of me that seems to understand how much of a fool God must be for creating this bullshit.

The Summer flickers into the year with lingering regrets;

A medley of melted marshmallows and perfume laced bug sprays.

It’s not a storm like the Spring, raging in, forcing growth and change, no.

Summer stumbles with no direction, as if lost in all this sunlight,

As if the added hours of daytime and sweltering drafts have incited a lethargy

That takes a provenance in refuse cartilage of swollen anatomies.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

I think most people know this about me already, but I’m really, REALLY not good at this whole “living” thing.

It wasn’t an active process, just background noise, the gears turning and keeping me moving forward. One step, 2 steps, a stumble over a crack in this ancient cement driveway, a crack I’ve known since I was 5 years old, a crack I’ve avoided a 1000 times during games of tag, basketball, hopscotch. A crack that is somehow just now entering my consciousness, demanding to be seen, to be felt, demanding that I, at this very moment, experience a literal fall alongside my mental collapse. And that, my friends, is when I realized the truth; even if I’d spent an entire lifetime in one place, I never really knew anything at all before he came crashing into me…