Tearing bruises off the peach
Until the pit appeared,
In a silence that is never the same twice,
He had to remove to become.
AVP
Tearing bruises off the peach
Until the pit appeared,
In a silence that is never the same twice,
He had to remove to become.
AVP
Through the burning grass and
Breaking branches beneath his feet,
The journey of an unfinished soul
Walked sixty-four years on a string.
AVP
Chained to a dark cloud,
Making a bed on rock bottom,
He chased empty dreams
of wicked butterflies around his head.
AVP
From past empty mansions
where worth was carved onto posts
in rooms that make the darkness tremble,
Is where he shot broken arrows
hopelessly at bags of demons
containing the deep fear of letting go.
AVP
Out in the rain
shadows follow behind.
AVP
The cream shirt
didn’t hide
his sleeves of scars.
AVP
With dandelion eyes
he stared into the corner of the sky,
watching free falling dreams
sleep through the sunshine.
AVP
Torn to pieces by roses
of moments that refuse to die,
he collides
into the cracked logic of madness.
AVP
He stands between two shadows
whose voices don’t use words,
but throw grief like glitter
in the attic of insanity.
AVP
His itinerant footprints in the sand
were swept away long before
he could even turn his head to look at them.
AVP