I loved you long before

I was born

where nothing

Lived but my love.

Like moss on an arctic stone

I will love you

Long after I die

And the day

You will waste

wearing black

With my drunk friends.

© Bernard Pearson

So long on this wrenched road I've walk

Pains gone from the shards of glass and bits of metal in my feet

And the pinch and pull of rips from movement barely register from the dried patches of deep red scabs all over me.

.

To call numb a feeling is ironic

Irony having lost its comedic glow

From ironic to being "just how things go".

I've emboded failure and tasted regret

But that taste left in my mouth

Is washed away by cigarettes

Exhaling into the vacuum packed atmosphere.

A stinging twinge with a dawning thought that dances near my anterior mind.

That love and joy and life divine are lost to me in my mental fortress and isolating mental autonomy.

I owe life an apology.

He said, "Who cares if one light goes out...in a sky full of stars." And I leaned into you. A distant voice on a distant line. My voice cracked and the tears fell and your slow southern drawl soothed my ears.

Through the Miles and the oceans and the white line dreams. I toppled down. Something like a game. Dominos click clacking as they fall.

"I hear the destruction in your voice," you say and I take a draw and shake it off. The Mollys wearing thin and my minds wearing thinner. Just an aching bottle and a xanny to my name.

I hear your words like a muffled sound, crackling like an old ass vinyl in my ear.

You called my name and they called you out. Whipped and abused and used.

"We're both the same," I think and then I shake it off. Crush it up, push it down...our tracked mark scars show a different world, a different us.

Soft Gibson strums melt me down. Burnt up spoons and burnt out dreams. Some black hole destruction of the soul. You say something low and I wanna ask. Tonight I'm too crossfaded to care. Something about love or gratitude...its all just fading words in self-destructing mind.

Aching brain, half-assed thoughts...I try to focus. I try to focus on your words and your love and your wisdom. (So wise beyond your years.) And I wonder how you learned so young, so fast and I'm still here... fighting against everything you know, everything you love, everything you are.

I mumble something about being worthless and I shut out your response. I can't hear the good, I can't hear your words. Just once, I wish I could see me the way you see me. You make me so very fearless and strong. An idea, a carefully perfected image of something I'll never be.

Sometimes...just sometimes you make me believe my own lies. Tonight though, tonight I'm numbed out. The pills from the plug went fast and hard. Leaving me confused And brave and unaware.

"Talk to me," you say. There's a pleading in your voice. I should react. But, I don't. I just breathe in deeply and load another round. I want to say I miss you. Maybe that I'm lost without you. I want to say I need you. I'm silent instead.

I see the dominos falling. Click, clack, click, clack. A quiet exit to Silver Springs and Xanax dreams.

There once was a near-sighted prostitute

Who sought her house of ill-repute

But she walked into a warehouse

Instead of the whorehouse

And used a forklift to hoist more than two

Heavy drops start pelting from the sky, turning dust into mud, trickling into the cracks in the earth. Lightning crackles, thunder roars. The downpour is deafening on the corrugated tin roof. The gutters start to spill over, it's leaking in the kitchen. The farmer walks outside and smiles.

@ChrisSadhill

Three come together. One is hard, ready to please top or bottom. The second, submissively, soft, and sweet. The third, Latin, dark, a sultry obsession. Heat binds dark and sweet, entwined them into melting, caloric pleasure. Crumbling, the hard pushes melding sultry into sticky. Orgasmic, forbidden, oozing, menage a s'mores.

Just a stranger in the far-off mist

Orange lantern-glow in the sigh of the wind.

Two lives intersecting here, crossing paths tonight.

Both peering through the smoke-filled sky

Searching for a life that's glowing in the distance.

Just two strangers in the mist together,

Sharing their lives, if only for a moment.

Becoming friends while the lanterns glow.

Pieces of the known world

begin, to fall away,

drop from, one's grasp

like a child's hand,

as they fall into

a deep sleep

while you look

on hypnotised by beauty.

Time-travel technology turned tragic today. The team trained themselves thoroughly, taking their tools to the transmission tower. The trip took them to the threshold--three thousand thirty three. There, they tried to track the titanic tumult that threatened the timeline. Team trainer, Tony Talbot, told the telecasters that "This terrific ten-person temporalnaut team traded themselves, trying to tame the time-twister."