Sitting at Powell’s

I sit in this bookstore where I feel detached from the young and too young to be the old. Miles away, memories come in with the fog and rest their toes at the edge of the water. The only promise of life is the sound of fury from beyond what only the lost can see.Continue reading “Sitting at Powell’s”

Fall to hell

(to Evan) Most my life I hurt, felt lost without, struggled to find pieces of my mind, confused about things to be defined, love was a yearning in the absence of another, and desperation in their presence. It’s been a long road of crushing disappointments, found myself broken, misled, mistaken, misspoken, discovered hope in theContinue reading “Fall to hell”