As much at home
on his horse...
I scrub and scrub
but still the blood pours down...
I've always been good at struggling,
Fighting, trying to find the will to live...
The lights are heading downtown
where Santa sits in a red chair, smiling...
i
let me lay waste the final tapestry...
Twenty-six killed, twenty injured
in a small rural Texas town...
I'm tired
more tired...
1.
a countless slumber...
It burns at 4 in the morning
When your eyes won't close...
Quiet contemplation
My reflection in glass like a ghost...
Bleeding feet.
Boot-soles torn in jagged stripes...
Cogitating our path,
the many possibilities...