Should beasts eat their tail!
Venom… years later, at will
Old posts… not yet dead
Should beasts eat their tail!
Venom… years later, at will
Old posts… not yet dead
If love is a hotel…
And my love is on the top floor…
What gets me in the door?
To the front desk?
On the elevator?
With a key to the top floor? (Of course that floor is locked and guarded by fearsome goons.)
To the same room on the top floor?
And into his arms to save his life?
Writer who does not:
Separate island, stale wind
No thought, words, sound, life…
I stir the cream into my coffee. The sky is lit with the moon and it keeps me awake enough to race with my thoughts. “Compatible,” I think. I keep getting hit with this word when I least want to hear it. When I make a play for permanence, the other party starts their doubts. “Is it me or her timing?” “Is she consistent?” “Is she looking at me right now?” I don’t want to make them uncomfortable, but I do. And then they hit me with it. “Do you think we’re compatible?” And the next move is crucial. Because once they ask, there is only one correct answer.
Yip, yip!… yapping too…
Both good and evil doled out.
This can of worms I…
All the while we snooze
Sorrow billows, tears…. pillows
‘Tis better to have…
No drink for me, thanks.
Oh, why? Just need a break’s all.
Deep breath. That’s better.
Heart blooms toward him.
There is no safe place to love.
Heart blooms toward her.
Mimics a phantom
Running so fast she crashes
She loved and left soon
when the real thing’s far
to loop in my head—our heads
perfect then perform
We clock out at the same time also
So when the slivers of sun tiptoe through the office blinds
I recoil
And then recoil at the thought that this cave has blinded me
Until I don’t want to see myself anymore and my cubicle even less
Between me and the fridge
Just a short walk
That hurts a bit now that I think about it
Would be great to have a mini fridge
In my room.
Today, I’m at the freehand on Ohio (19 E), feeling fortunate that I can leave
then to
somewhere to sleep the same night
then to
my need to rush the gauntlet where people (are meant to) battle to meet (but ultimately fall short of) my lofty expectations
then to:
negative ruminations behind
and a mind to be sure when this happens next time…
I’ll end the war in a loft
some place more than just “somewhere to sleep the same night”
What do I have a spare tire for? I don’t even know how to drive.
I told my friend I didn’t have friends and he agreed. I wanted to meet new people, but then I couldn’t find any good reason I’d leave my place to meet people.
( This piece was recently published the Hawaii Pacific Review. That enough was reason to open it & I was more than pleasantly surprised❕💬 )
by Hosho McCreesh (from A Deep & Gorgeous Thirst) At the chalet and you’re guzzling down bombers of Farmer beer, and the occasional measure of …
A Deep & Gorgeous Thirst