A Book Falls
A book falls, I fall.
The proper thing to do is to pick it up, dust it off and hold it close to your heart.
Not me, not this time.

Words bring forward stars to forge a world from the ink, breathe, your heart will write.
A book falls, I fall.
The proper thing to do is to pick it up, dust it off and hold it close to your heart.
Not me, not this time.
I feel compelled to write about my new tattoo, especially because a couple reactions were, “why him?” Follow me on a short but wonderful journey of self discovery and mild ink addiction.
Although I haven’t climbed these stairs in years
they always sound the same
under my feet,
creak and splinter,
in the same spots.
I can no longer tell if this shadow
hidden
somewhere deep
was created or always was.
Relax
here’s a small pond
The water feels like needles pricking every inch of me
but never strong enough to rip me open
My sanity is no longer with me. Fatigue masks my emotions, leading me into a gentle and numb state as I leave my apartment.
It’s a chilly morning, somewhere between autumn and winter. The gray sky seems to glow brightly against the silhouettes of the trees. As I walk along the railroad tracks I kick stray leaves out of my way. My legs stop and I inhale deeply. I exhale, watching my warm breath mingle with the cold air and flow upwards into the sky. I’ve thought about this before of course.
Many times.
I am trapped in the soft prison
of my own flesh.
The wardens have wrapped my heart in wire.
Tied down by the demons
that hunt us.
I don’t mind being another taken,
one more.
Day brought the shadows when it shone too bright,
created the darkness to dance with the light.
Blame the sun for burning,
fire on your skin.
and watch as the clouds abandon the sky.