Brief Non-writing update to my like, five followers and those Nazis that were watching my shit for a while.

This has been one of the best weeks of my life, holy shit.

I am so close to finishing my Bachelor Of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, after so much hard work.

So many cool projects on the horizon.
Swimming in sweetness and support.
Sometimes I wake up to texts from my sweetheart, and can’t believe how I lucked out, except I know how hard we both worked to become the people we are and deserve one another too.

Tonight I will read a piece of writing on a stage where the mighty BLACK SABBATH once played when they were at the apex of their sonic power.

Does this mean I’ve made it?

Doing everything in my power to keep my body and brain healthy.

 

 

Dating during this whole mass extinction thing is wild.

We sit
Next to one
Another in bed
Skin pressed to skin
You smile while you knit
And I’m drunk
On the delight of it

With a baseball game
On the radio
The window open
To the last strains
Of summer drifting in
From a skyline I never thought
I would come to love
Looming concrete and steel above
Not indestructible
But close enough
For now

I scribble in my journal
Trying to give my words
The bloodsoaked weight
Of a Lydia Lunch or
Any other horror adjacent

I Let the pen rest
With a breath
And your head
On my chest

Try as I might
I don’t got the heart
For wringing the wrath
Out of my body tonight
I wore that shit out
Of me last year
And the year before that
And the year before that one too.

Talking about being born
Like a burn ward
Skin always too thin
Too sensitive to exist
Over and over and over
How your bones can ache
And age, slamming small hands
Against a lifetime’s weight
Of storm clouds begging to break

Drive home
Across down
Real late at night
Sailing across an
Asphalt sea and blinking lights
The windows down
Fingers curl around the wheel
Freshly dipped in the afterglow

All the cold songs
Written for cold hearts
I used to love
About never falling in love
And tears flowing
To help the flowers grow
Play real loud on the stereo
Singing me all the way home

Those songs seem so silly now
Or at least like the sounds
Ears would be grateful to outgrow
Waiting
Not in love, but kind of in love, or
Making our way to that graceful falling
Or close enough
Waiting
for the curtain to fall
And the war to come home.