A Book Falls (By Cat Matchuk)
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.
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. Continue reading “Runaway Swan Song”
I can no longer tell if this shadow
hidden
somewhere deep
was created or always was. Continue reading “On the Edge”
Relax
here’s a small pond
The water feels like needles pricking every inch of me
but never strong enough to rip me open
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.