Little Thoughts


A glass cup sits alone on a countertop 12/13/22

Space.
Touch.
Wind.
Break.

The glass shatters when it hits the ground.
the glossy hardword floor covered in glitters,
tiny incisions sprinked in the unseeable, unfeelable dents

The crack of the noise pierces the stale air,
Unnatural, phenomenon eases itself into life.
All by its lonesome, it goes unnoticed.


My winter spirit 12/6/22

Air returns to my lungs like a
vagabond visits an overtly fond town
Oh sweet refreshing air, how I missed you so.
Come into my arms to be cradled

It's hard to savor the enegry that flows throughout my limbs
As it begs for release as soon as it's recieved.
It squirms and struggles for break

Do not Leave me! Do not Leave me!
My need, my movitate.
What gives me eyes that can see
What allows me to apperiate the taste of the thin, cold atmosphere

Can't you see how I need you?

It is only then does the green start to shed it's frost
And my sluggish form returns to me
Until the next time, when the days become short
and the drowsy nights become long.


A lovely favorite 11/18/22

My favorite taste, is only one I can get when
My love is experincing a fever between her legs
With her trembling thighs, and her red face
A sweet reminder of a setting sun.

My eyes constantly linger towards the sweet pink,
petals that are her enticing lips
My mouth waters like pavlov's dog
Only she can make me into such an animal

As we both give in, to this burning need
To mark each other with love
To create sounds that aren't words
To feel as one


A Good Day 11/18/22

I tap my knuckles aganist wood
To rid the fear that permenants me about today
Not that I think that it will go bad
but by the fact, I'm writing about this at all

its such a strange fear that is felt
that by hoping too much, the universe will hear your call
and deliberately curse you

But ever still, I know today will be a good day


A backwards burrow 11/17/22

Man's first shelter was a cave
A wide rock bubble that has taken thousands,
millions of years to form
Before we worked the materials of the land
we used what was laid out for us
Dirt and dust covered glitters,

We shared with other creatures,
no different than the simple roach
who much like us taken a liking to the dim, cooling area.
Then fire made it's way into our well-worn hands

With fire, came pride as we moved from our home
to forge something new
We no longer hid away as we created shelter ontop of the ground
The land was ours to form and shape as we wished.
We were better than the bugs.

Now I sit inside a room with no windows. A room without soul.
Air no longer something that is a delightful gift
as it gets pushed towards me with long metal fingers.
I cannot blame early man
for attempting to make something better
than what they were given
But as I sit typing on a device made of anicent rocks and fossils
I cannot help, but miss the earth before it was made


The First Poem 11/16/22

I can feel the beat of my heart
A natural rhythm that curses my mind inescapable, indecipherable
The blood it pumps throughout my veins that warms my body,
swirls around my head, lifting me from reality.
Dislodging me from the beloved embrace of the earth

Beautiful heart, take care of me so.
Free me from the grip of your keep.
Let me see clear from my eyes once more,
Let my thought move from my mind

Beautiful heart, don't you work so hard?
To keep my motionless soul alive
Take a break, my little keepsake