Etch these words into my skin, so I may never forget. I steal my light as a paper moon, only glowing after sunset.

He creeps into your mind at the most inopportune times, stealing away precious brain cells and holding in the CO2 that you’ve built up in your veins. Whatever warmth you had seeps out through your open chest, replacing the justified anger with docile tones and heavy shakes. You feel leaks, tiny pin pricks along all … Continue reading Etch these words into my skin, so I may never forget. I steal my light as a paper moon, only glowing after sunset.

I think of you as still being here, with me. I feel your weight on my shoulder when I lay down alone, the scent of your neck filling my lungs, the cold of your feet chilling mine. I’m not lonely, I’m just alone at the moment, and this moment is bound to pass, eventually.

I left you, ran away from you, rented a Dodge Charger, drove that bitch till the gas ran out, got on a sled with a full 10 Husky sledding team, road those bitches (a more appropriate use of the term here) until running into the Alaskan never-ending summer skyline, and STILL, when I caught my … Continue reading I think of you as still being here, with me. I feel your weight on my shoulder when I lay down alone, the scent of your neck filling my lungs, the cold of your feet chilling mine. I’m not lonely, I’m just alone at the moment, and this moment is bound to pass, eventually.

My body lies still in sleep, unlike my insecure soul. My dreams carry weight; they are the leaves after the autumn downpour, so common nobody stops to stare, but to each tree it feels like a lead weight just shifted onto the branches, making each leaf cry out in turn: “It’s now the time for … Continue reading It’s not so simple, black and white and shades of gray. We exist as light, and can be bent to reflect the colors of the heavens themselves, at least in the right persons eyes.

The Sun is only romanticized as setting or rising, yet most of life will be experienced in between. A setting Sun bathes the horizon, outlining the nearby nimbus in blood orange as if stealing inspiration from love gone awry. The rising Sun is a steady blossom, curtailed by early morning commutes and excuses for running … Continue reading I get to work before the sun is up, and I leave work after it has already set, and I don’t even think I care anymore.