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They gnaw at the edges of me, little sharp-toothed things with hollow eyes, crawling from the cracks in my skull to lap at the marrow of my thoughts. I used to fight them. I used to starve them. But hunger makes them cruel. So now I lay the table. Silver plates of regret, goblets brimming with old wounds, a banquet of memories too raw...

the dots are slowly disconnecting I can see it coming now the register jams more often did I do that and why...or how? 'yes, you told me that remember...? but it's okay everything is fine' the signs are now clear this creeping fear the foggy mist of my decline the familiar sound of the 2 o'clock train snaps me out of my hazy state I move to the...

Sadness isn’t always obvious. Sometimes it shows up quietly, more like a fading feeling than something sharp. It can feel heavy, or just kind of hollow, like there’s a gap where something used to be, even if you can’t quite explain it. It has a way of making you slow down and pay attention. To what hurts, to what’s missing, or to things that...

The Iron Cage** Within a prison built of bone and sinew, He dwells, a captive, where no sun shines in. His flesh, a battlefield where armies clash, And joints, once fluid, now are bound in ash. Psoriasis, a crimson, crawling tide, Leaves burning trails where life should freely glide. Arthritis, with its gnawing, twisting grip, Has stolen...

the town had just come into view as the western sky turned a brilliant blue he pulled up alongside a prickly pear lit up a stogie and rested his mare how long will this beauty last he'd wonder the calm was hushed by distant thunder no time to dawdle as the blue went gray it's rollin' in fast best be on our way the echoes roll in the western...

Rooted in place, too many things pulling at it. Instead of being nourished, it gives and gives. It withers, draws itself inward, yet the roots are still searching, still trying to give of themselves. It tore itself up by the roots and flew off, not knowing where it was headed. It crashed straight into a wall and fell to the ground. It lay there...

~ “Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what's left and live it properly. What doesn't transmit light creates its own darkness.” ― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations ~ I looked back and saw kindergarten Memories playing vividly in my head Halfway done they said and I asked "Didn't life start just yesterday?" I wonder if it...