• you were a very plausible mistake
    full of reasonable promise
    and decent intentions
    sent spiraling down a path of moderate apathy
    and excessive greed

  • distance isn’t just a thing
    but miles do not stretch
    these things are unbending
    brittle in the way of stones
    and strong like heavy rain
    there is power in the distance
    but much more in disguise

  • the eternity of substance
    is limited by quantity
    much more than by valor

    when our water stores run dry
    when the entirety of supermarkets
    are cleaned down to the empty shelves

    it will not be the heroes
    that somehow procure more
    rather, it will be the theives

  • slantedstories commented on the post, knee 5 years, 12 months ago

    If you kneel I’ll bruise
    Heavy purple, ugliness
    Hide it in the pew

  • slantedstories commented on the post, barricade 6 years ago

    we only ever see
    as far as light provides for
    and our path is only ever lit
    but the flame that we create ourselves
    behind each darkened barricade
    could lay lumps of coal
    or hardened sheets of ice
    and I wonder which is worse

  • slantedstories commented on the post, flea 6 years ago

    The power of forced entrance
    Waits not only for the strong
    The best laid walls of mice and men
    Are nothing against fleas
    Some filth apart from mud is dust
    Some dust is limitless

  • slantedstories commented on the post, date 6 years, 1 month ago

    dates are different things for those
    who mark their planners carefully
    who cross off boxes on a calendar
    and run through days like marathons
    shrugging off the minutes
    or drinking down the time
    drowning in an hour on a bench
    with a pretty girl
    or staring at their watches
    dates are different things for those
    picking up a that pretty girl at 8:00

  • distilled into the bottom of a glass
    this curious case is closed
    whatever substance it may be
    that molds itself to love or hate
    does not change as medium
    or fuel in unlit charge
    distilled into a single spark

    Let no man stand his ground

  • She grew up in numbers
    Counting steps and left turns
    Second stoplight, go straight through
    She learned to give directions
    Measuring the distance
    Between her tired feet
    And that open door

  • slantedstories commented on the post, welt 6 years, 2 months ago

    at times I like to think I’m hurt
    but that isn’t really true
    I search my arms for scars I’m sure I made
    and realize there is nothing there
    I know that I should not be sad
    but I’ll wretch and never vomit
    I’ll wince without a welt
    my smile misses something
    in exactly the cliche way I always knew it would
    and at times I like to think I’m hurt

  • I would like to say
    that between the cliff and ground
    lies more than footage

  • it’s been the longest time
    since I have seen your eyes
    the way I wish you could see mine
    so I guess we have a while
    before there is much worth
    to friendly conversation

  • slantedstories commented on the post, based 6 years, 3 months ago

    based solely on the evidence
    and forgoing all rational thought
    it has been decided that you knew all along
    and when we drank the air together
    repulsion was slightly less than physics
    and a little more than force
    while our strange scientific laws
    danced in their own friendly fire

  • slantedstories commented on the post, delve 6 years, 3 months ago

    No one ever promises
    To lie for their whole lives
    Yet there is some sort of code
    That brings me to this point

    It’s wrong to delve too deeply
    Into a hollow mind
    But sickening to open doors
    That have locked themselves

  • No man is an island
    but I guess we’re all fragmented
    Strewn in shards and plastered—
    whitewash over super glue
    like “I’m doing fine, thank you.”
    We don’t ask about the bell
    because we know for whom it tolls
    They’re in obituaries

  • I still have the drawings
    stained glass window that you made
    opens to a fuzzy thought
    stapled hopes and memories
    and I know we hurt
    but man,
    since when do I say “we”?

  • nothing can roar louder
    than the steady drone of waves
    fighting to undo
    the status of an island
    the power of a shore
    the shelter of a lifeboat
    and a million fragile pieces
    of what used to be a clam

  • Can you drown
    a balloon?
    Or will it shove
    it’s way back
    up and
    (the air
    it holds already)

  • slantedstories commented on the post, decoy 6 years, 4 months ago

    underneath the wooden turtles
    and empty soda bottles
    somewhere behind a dusty stained glass window
    (pastels, of course)
    maybe you will find a bit of truth
    or at least a fragment
    of what can’t be labeled decoy

  • Who is to be blamed
    For thirteen hour sunsets
    Melted light brown sugar
    Bee stings, bug bites, snakes
    Sand too hot to tread
    Waves too cold to swim
    Carpet burn
    Alarms that don’t go off

    And death?

    But who is too be blamed
    For the mornings when we do wake up?