Truth Hurts

Certain truths sting
My heart
Like a thousand
Being driven through
Already scarred

       Dana Dampier

Shit Creek

  Some days seem impossibly long. Loneliness stops time to laugh in your face. Clock hands unmoved. Seconds standing still... taunting. For once the silence threatens your sanity instead of saving it. So, you play a sad song in order to feel something... but it backfires. You then feel too much causing loneliness to be joined by a much darker force called fear. When fear and loneliness intertwine, you are officially up shit creek unless you have a strong paddle. Having a paddle means there is still hope. Hope of navigating through life's crap, the stench of a liars rotting breath as they spout their untruths, the rancid souls of those who only seem to cause pain... and smile upon it as a child would when receiving a prize. There will always be hope unless you join those unfortunate creatures we call our fellow human beings. I, for one, do not. So, I ask you this... will you be my paddle? I'm not sure that I have one.



Drawing chalk lines
On warm concrete
A stray rock causing 
An imperfection
Curving and zig zagging
Into the unknown
Total chaos
A beautiful abstract
Of an unhinged mind
Always thinking
But never caring
Where the next line leads



Tracing constellations on your skin
Stars furnish my eyes
Planets shift
Now orbiting us...
Our space
Deeply energized with emotion
Your mind... the moon
My heart... the sun
This room
Our universe
Time is what we make it
So we take pleasure in our creation
As shooting stars streak across our galaxy

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~Birds of a feather~