“The Sunday Mail Pt. 3” Days 325 – 329

We fall into routines
For the routines to fall out from under us.
Our safety nets then become nooses
And our noose becomes our safety net.
What once would kill us to do
Is all that’s left to keep us alive.


“A Broken Sun” Days 322 – 323

A Broken Sun 322 I can feel the wind Cross into the bedroom. I can feel the ocean Warp into the sundown. And everyone just floats on In silent memory. Our muscle tone breaks and turns To ashes on the moon. I notice how things keep changing As the ocean keeps rising, and rising. The … Continue reading