Poetry · Writing

igor

transfused:

bleeding finger tips

over your tan washed drum kit

dragging your worship like a rotting corpse.

early on sundays to meet

before wandering eyes can undress

my wishful thinking;wishing

and put her in wolf fur.

i am sorry for missing our date

not one to do that

but

i can’t promise

that it won’t

happen again

Poetry · Writing

playoff game

we lost.

we were barely playing,

showed up late

cussed each other out

finished strong

too not show up when it mattered most;

it’s not all you

i know the ball could have been better

not perfect, just better

we were never perfect

just humans

showing up each game

playing for our lives