Writing, Ideas, & Stories
“would you burn this all down, to save her?”
his open palm gestured behind him
highlighting a mostly vacant parking lot
convenience store with a couple of loiterers
water-damaged apartment complex with towels hanging from railings
kids playing make-believe
a couple- a couple maybe returning from a lively first date
snickering and whispering, a future alive in their clasped hands
and a homeless man.
–
I would.
day of our showcase
pants hemmed the night before
shirt pressed the night before
day of our showcase
up bright and early;
birds chirped a fresh melody-
a duet-
can’t deny their chemistry-
Juliet.
night of our showcase
must have gotten lost the morning of
changed your mind the morning of
night of our showcase
down, late and groggy;
the foggy night swings-
memory of a duet-
marionette’s heartstrings-
where have you gone, juliet.
you breathe too sweet
galloping toward you like a bear in a red tee.
oh honey honey-
the picnic is you
oh honey honey-
open the jar
i use to wr-
i use to post a lot, small moments
covered in a scarf
or bundles of blankets
like a timeline of me.
& somewhere along the way
i started to take in
this negativity that spawned:
some from these memories
from the dread of time
the doubt i have over these dreams.
more input then
i could process
all the good the bad and the ugly.
if everything was put into a blender
mashed, spewed out of a topless container
caught in all of my gears
along my side
locked up
& eventually
my audience lost interest in my work-
myself.
so now
high noon
moon beaming down like a spotlight.
crisp evening air blows through a chipped scarf down to these worn denim.
whistles of a challenger:
matching gray python boots and pistol
all that’s left is a trail of smoke and an eye meeting mine.
he whispers, “Every gun makes its own tune”.
they wished the worst on you
slip and fall
into a pool of your own blood
streaming from your diseased dreams
while your mother chokes
on her own shitty unseasoned cooking.
all for saying
you were excited for Moon Knight.
future sight
is inexpensive
it only cost me
my youth
last year
a shakey handoff
(at best)
constantly choosing between
life and sleep
haven’t slept in years
when i do;
my dreams were a gothic spinoff
love interest played by wednesday.
black and white lens
for thee ending send-off
all black molotov
(for those who couldn’t be here)
with fireworks
and a rip off.
infinite amount of chances
just gotta take more
he told me that
before he passed
he said
you never know what is a bullseye
until you shoot.
the first night
i stayed up hours after
playing it back in my head
on a projector
& my eyes the bulbs
every second
didnt want to forget
the smallest detail
i paid
to be accepted
only to be denied
fair treatment.
singing among the treetops
cursed to walk the ground
your song only calls
the hell hounds.
Saint's Muse 