

And so My Flower Fades
I remember drunken writes
and broken days,
slurred poetry
and you always understood
the nonsense.
I bought you cookies once,
when you were at your lowest.
You didn't know I was too.
You held those crumbs,
grateful,
I was just glad that
it meant something.
We were etched in ink,
But more.
We were family in our own way.
You called me razzle
I called you an asshole.
We both laughed.
Ill miss our banter
The most.
And your stories in that
slurred southern accent.
And
Writing nonsense in gravity.
The sister I never had.
Wish I'd said it.
At least once.
Feels like a version of me
is lost with you.
One of my favorite parts.
I guess that's why we kill flowers.
Those wilting blooms are for those
That are forced to stay behind.
A reminder.
And So My flower fades.
And I say goodbye.
Knowing that part of me
Will follow you into the dirt,
My favorite friend.
I hope they serve cookies
Where u are.
And I hope they have strippers
And Woodford.
Thank you for everything.
I promise I will never forget
"Old Shells"
May the best of me
follow you down.
Or at least try.
And I will walk away
missing something.
No one will ever hit on my wife
Quite like you.
Or call me a dumbass
when I ramble.
You meant more
than I ever said.
And I'm sorry.
And So My flowers wilt.
May they follow you forever.
My dear friend.
Goodbye. And thank you
for all of it.
For everything to come
Thank you.
My dearest Shells.
Ill Drink Her Again in the Morning
She's my
Bourbon hiccup,
Like peace
And the cost of it.
Like getting
In trouble as a kid,
Knowing you'd take
A beating
And decided
It was worth it.
Alone with
Tear filled eyes
Rubbing a wound,
But all you think about
Is telling the story
To those that matter.
Some things
Are worth it.
I guess that's
Why is write.
Wolves and Rabbits
I cannot find the shore
Where intention is
More than ritual.
I cannot find peace
Between the blinks
Of moonlight and blindness.
Give money to the
Beggar
At the stoplight
And I feel
Not so shitty.
Do I wish to ease
The slow scratch
Of hunger
As it rakes out
Against the world in protest?
Or am I oblivious
And just needed
A reason
To smile?
Are we just wolves
Sharing rabbits
And my conscious is simply
A request
That violence
Is envied by peers?
Or maybe I actually care.
I dont know most times.
So I hold the door open,
When I can,
For strangers,
Hoping that if I see myself
In everyone.
Maybe some of this counts.
Much like the moon
And what it pretends to be.
First Round on Me
Let's share scars
like shots,
each of us Picking
our own poison.
A necessary
evil
to kill the words
only we ourselves understand
before they sneak up throat
and give the deaf
The last words
of the day,
Words we will never recall.
I know your pain.
The anguish of
a story lost
syllables
that will circle
forever in the presence
of oblivion.
So I'll have Jim
And you have Jack,
And we will both
drown the demons
dripping from our pens,
like snakes stretching
after the frost.
Shadows that grow
beneath the best parts of it.
Don't worry my friend,
darkness will make
everything safe again.
So let's share scars.
Like shots.
And make everything
the same shade.
Till everything blurs,
Cheers.
Lately
I'm finding faith
Between
Questions
And
Self-laced intentions,
Like a dot to dot
Painting insanity
Or something else.
So I interrogate
My eyes
And why they bend
And spin
Light as they do.
Is anything real?
So I will follow
my greed
Into the foundation
Of everything
I will never know,
And create night
With eyelids and hope.
And I will see her
As more than
An outline,
When I can trace
nothing
But darknes,
Peeling like scars
From from the center
Of me.
I peak back out
At the dawn.
And i wish I
I could see everything
Like this.
And follow the greed.
The truth is,
Being wrong
Is fucking
Beautiful.
Because she looks good
In both outfits.
If only I could
Also
See
Myself.
Dapper as fuck
In my confusion.
Maybe truth
Would never
Drop beneath the horizon.
But when it comes
To her,
You always squint
At the fucking sun.
Rejoin As She Rises
She was created
from the depths, born
between time and tears
before she escaped
snares trapping perfection.
so my dreams run red
in a feeding frenzy,
consuming ghosts
like daydreams
and various insecurities.
nothing good
can come from this.
remorse is a juggernaut
and it really pisses me off
when my scoops come
up empty.
the popular fallacies of love
pool around my bones.
so I will sink
soft beneath the sand
and catch her
On the way up.
Whispers, Waves and Paying Attention
She's casting whispers
on waves again,
Lets the sound starve for air
and spread between the tides.
And I'm counting bubbles
within the mist.
And her echoes
wash up and
shape the shoreline
until I find myself.
Walking this tightrope
that only I'm aware of.
She's looking at a dreamboad.
I'm dodging steps
so I don't trample something
I never knew existed.
And the waves are nonsense
but feel truth.
So I'm tapdancing in moonlit blindspots
because I don't want to
stomp on dreams.
I will let the ocean
pool in my palm before
I carry it careful to a flame.
Boil it out and trace the clouds.
Just...looking for clues
I probably let pass by.
And I will miss something.
So I'll show scars and wrinkles
as proof I tried.
Hoping the textured leather
around my heart
tells a story she hasn't
Heard yet.
A lot of maybes
Die within hope.
Guess I'm praying
for chances now.
An Answer Delaying
I'm missing audio.
Still, twisting silences.
Ears bleeding memories,
My moments transparent.
It's about believing
in moments unrealized.
I cannot recreate
this dying sentiment.
She awakes magical
like daylight transcending.
I whisper gratitude,
lost between syllables.
For a syllable challenge. 3 word lines. One then two then three syllables.