Chalk ConversationsShe mashes chalk to the sidewalk until her knuckles bleed,Chalk Conversations7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
And writes the same sentences over each other,
The words blurred and smudged with the coming of the rain that hides her confession.
We are all going to die,
She wrote, the realization like collapsing walls pinning her to a startling reality.
We are all going to forget.
We are all going to slip away.
Even our planet will burn up,
A brief speck in the universe we pretend to comprehend.
And so it is of little significance
Whether of not we are happy.
He reminds himself each day not to forget that he lives for a living.
He sits in coffee shops for inspiration
And weaves the passerby into the ink smeared on the pages he'd writ.
He writes a message in each of his chronicles.
To say we are sinners doesn't quite explain it;
To say we are corpses is inexplicably real.
Haven't we died each time we forget
It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees?
They'd stayed by the other for the best and wo
deconstructing in your sighsideconstructing in your sighs5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
it’s not like they said it would be easy.
when you look at me
open-mouthed and dewey-eyed,
negligent; and your laughter
slurs together like runoff sewage,
and your voice is drowning in
a certain kind of sadness, the one
reserved for the faults
we never asked for; and you sigh,
heavy, like I am back sitting in
your throat between your adam’s apple
and the truths you dare not speak;
you pity me.
it’s that very same weakness which
delivered me naked and trembling
into the skin of a person
I never was; pity
does not require action, disappointment
does not take away from the burning human need
to overcome oneself. I’m sick of living
tomorrow regretting the person I am today;
I drained her all out in a fit of desperation,
and filled myself through with vodka giggles
and scribbled lines and you, darling, you,
who fears nothing but the skeleton girl
sleeping quietly in your closet.