Sketches from the heart of this wasteland

Oh where have

You been?

April your lips I have found

Your whispering voice

Echoes through the emptying streets

Of this town

Your shifting feet

Echoes through these trees

——-

And I saw

I saw it all fall

The world that we built

All that we had invested

Burned right in front of us

Is it enough

To keep us warm

When the winter comes?

How many ?

How many ?

——

The Joker dances in the streets

The street worker moves to the internet

The trees let go of all that they are holding

The grass grows

And it doesn’t consider us

The ocean crashes in

Whether or not I’m there to perceive it

——

And I wonder

Whether

They build their guns

They build their ships

They scheme their games

Building us up

Just to cut us down

——

Will our blood flood the empty streets

Whether we hold our breath

And pray for the rain ….

Will you even remember my name

——-

Hurl your banners

Your worst fear

April

You’re here

Now tell me my worth

Tell me my name

I’ve tasted your lips

Now show me the cards

Tell me your name….

Tell me the prophecy

Tell me

Who sketches the heart of this wasteland

——-

And in the valley

In kitchen

In the mountains

In hospital bed

In the living room

The rich

And the fallen

The guilty

The innocent

April turns her face

And we all hide our tears from this place ….

Writers Log

I’ve started trying to keep a better journal, I know this is a once in a lifetime event, everything is happening so fast, I’m very aware that there are events I will miss or forget altogether.

I don’t want to be so caught up in trying to survive or just being self absorbed that I miss it.

Honestly I probably miss a lot. I start my day at 4am and it usually ends around 6 or 7pm

I’ve spent almost 20 years working retail, specifically grocery. I’ve never seen it this wild.

I have a lot of thoughts on a lot of aspects of this, mostly because I over think everything. But I don’t want to add to the hysteria.

I have my cashiers wear gloves and I start every day cleaning empty shelves, registers and shopping carts. Even when the tornadoes came through in 2011 it wasn’t this wild. Most of my days have run together. I’m just trying to write more and not think too much about it. I keep telling myself “this is once in a lifetime.”

But honestly, I’m exhausted. Patient, grateful for community and thankful for a job and my employees. But exhausted.

I’m thinking about moving soon. Maybe to the mountain. I haven’t been that way in years. But it’s where I grew up. I feel strange, a certain way about it. I can’t pin point it. But I will figure it out. I think it might be good for me.

Time heals everything. You grow, trying or not you grow. Like a vine, around and through. Time is going to move you.

I need to start cooking again. I miss it.

I’m trying to piece another manuscript together. I’m not sure why. I just feel like I need to stay busy.

I’m terrified that I’m not a good person. I’m growing older. I just want to be good. Not perfect just good. I need to figure this out. The root. The base value.

Like math everything has a base value. Find it. Break the problem down. It’s easier to digest.

Just be good. Just be good. Be decent. Understanding. Listen.

Write. Everyday.

Iced Down

I could

Write you

A thousand lines

About the times

Tell you everything is changing

Better step up to

Plate your change

State your claim

—-

To the new reality

Starz

Coming out

Waving their banner

mind your manner

—-

Soul’s escaping

I’ve been working everyday

Since I was 6

Tell me what you know

All I know is it goes on

You take the good with the bad

And you make what you’ve got

You’re living and breathing social media hype

Tell me how many likes you get

For waking up to the sound of termites eating your window seal

Tell me again

How hot you’re not

You can do whatever you want

Don’t let them get to you

Push back

I write to kill

I kill to write

Tell you what I’m not

Broken

Shattered

You cannot burn a flame

Hotter than the soul in my eyes

It’s back

You cannot take that

I might put a lot

On the plate

But I’m not

Emptying myself like this again

She’s a hit

A hot star

She’s red

Full lips

Sex in heels

She’ll take your heart

Eat it in front of you

While riding you

Take your bad backseat

Tell me again about how hot you got it

Shoulda shoulda woulda

Look

Your dream is collapsing

You’ve got to roll the dice

Snap

Wake up

Hit the ground running

Times are what they are

Your cards on the table

Play what you’ve been dealt

Like it’s

The cards

You wanted

Tell me again how it’s going to end

Three steps forward one step back

Sounds like progress in the end

All this pain

All of this fight

You stay in it all night

Blow for blow

Victory

In the end

Text your frequent flyover miles

And Monday morning quarter backs

The play by play

You’re in the ring

This isn’t newsfeed

This isn’t story

This isn’t updates

This is reality

This is your life

It is what you make it

It goes on

Good with the bad

Everything passes

So be present

Be real

And

Make yourself proud

Just be here now

Chasing Sleep

I unsubscribed from the news

The internet

The perfect

places

—–

I was strutting around

Like I owned the town

When I think back on it …

Now I feel this winter in my chest

I’m humbled to know so many people that love me

I know now

You can win and you can lose

And you can do both gracefully

—-

It feels like this weight

Pushing down on me

I’m running

And I can’t stop

And there’s a ledge

I know it’s there

But I can’t stop

—–

I know you can love

I’ve seen you do it

You just choose to love me poorly….

Maybe I choose too

I hear myself say, this is who I am…I’m good at loving people

I’m good at being here with you …

But then I hear you say

This is just who you are…

And I wonder

How we have the same defense

And

How we

Left the bedroom

Look at our weapons

Hidden away

Throughout this home

This is a battlefield

—-

I used to strut around like I knew something

Now I’m humbled

I’m not sure what I know

Even about myself

I reserve the right to write what I want

I’m coming home to myself

The trees are still asleep in the morning

Your skin is soft against mine

Your eyes say good morning

Long before your lips

Two souls

Anchored together

Like ships in the water

The moon is down

I feel your light

And you are beautiful

Beautiful

I used to know

What did I know

Now

I’m just thankful

To share this space with you

I can still taste your lips

The Mill

The Bar.

“What’s up stoopid.”

Tara sat down across from me, her brown hair blocking the clock on the church across the street. Fortunately , part of the sun as well.

“What is that brain working on now? Who brings a book to a bar anyway?”

I stared. what do you want Tara?

I had to admit, it felt weird coming back home…the mills closed. Empty buildings, like coffins, waiting for their dead or a hotel with empty floors…just shadows of memory.

Tara smiled, lit a cigarette,

You know, you have to be 21 now.

Hey, we‘re all older.

She laughed.

I closed my book.

Asking myself why I came back home…but I really, already knew.

Maybe that was what bothered me.

Tara hadn’t changed that much. She had a way of moving through the weights and the hard moments. Seemingly unscathed.

I was not so lucky.

I took a breath. Feeling flashes of my childhood walking past me in the street.

While the words remain

Why is there no happiness …

I’ve only found true happiness

While writing.

Take me away

With your x-ray eyes

Tonight

Don’t look away

Out of the moon

I heard

The devil say

—-

Don’t lock me away tonight

Paths of destruction

We need a revolution

Dylan said a hard rain’s gonna fall

Why is there no happiness

Why is time a sleeper

When our soul’s on fire

Hearts desire

There’s no answer

And the words remain the same

We can walk these streets

All night

The words

Remain

The same