Wednesday, July 26

100 words





“Home is wherever I rest my head.
The sky is my roof. The ground is my bed.
No need for pillows and all that fluff.
Don’t need a home,
your man is tough!”

I know she knows that I am lying.
“Cut that bullshit, and stop pretending,”
She breathes in the world, begins to whisper,

“I just cannot wait
for another year,”

Her lips are trembling in slow motion.
The clock stops ticking.
The air is frozen.

The sky is sailing
in all directions.

The moon is missing.

The stars collide.

“I’m only at home
when you’re by my side.”




Tuesday, July 25

for now





this heart aches, another puzzle
without a missing piece
but the muse is being a bitch
for almost a year

this eyes are sore from staring
at the blank white page
and the blank white page
is now overused

this fingers are tired and sick
of jumping on backspace
reminisce, of a past when
they never stop 

this soul aches for another
fuck it, this one would do
i guess