Scar

Living in the midst of this bulland his shit,I find myself blind to the crimeof all the fine chinasmashed into shards—fragments of artistrymaking the point all the more sharplythat beauty is a risk.And to move through this beautiful worldis liable to splityour skinagain and again,at each step,until you bleed out all that’s leftof all you… Continue reading Scar

Soft

Is it my faultmy best days are gone?That I strive more fruitlesslywith every effort?I wasn’t enough.I guess I could have been,if I wasn’t so busypretending I was goodat pretending. I know you knew —since I’m making admissions —knew I had moreto give.Did you know I knewtoo?I held on to things you wanted.You called them my… Continue reading Soft