I don't have time to meet the end, I'm picking at my scalp and wondering-- no, knowing, you'll never try to change it. They call it pride. You call it personality. And I try at scabs and puss and stuff to distract me from never seeing you, because your demons had always danced and sung … Continue reading Dandruff and Mothers
I often wonder to the scrawny, passion-confused boy I left behind. The one who always fights with his music--banging on the keys because he's angry--angry at everything. I often wonder if he is still angry, but that is what makes me wary of him; forever wary of him. He was a knot of a person. … Continue reading The Passion Confused Boy
Mama, there is no easy path to ride into your Indian summers. Autumn is upon you now but you stoutly refuse to put on your coat or stop swimming in the ocean. Storms may come, but you insist you can mold any wave with your spirit that still sees itself riding mustangs in the desert, … Continue reading Mama, Autumn Comes
I forgot that honey makes me think of you. Your mother horded all her harvested honey in jars on the highest cuboard, though she had sworn a life of sugar, dairy, meat, and wheat celibacy. Honey was all she had left. Honey for another day. But you'd take down a jar, when you'd make me … Continue reading Honey
You were right. You're heart only beats, and there's something miswired in your soul. Black as you were, and still are, I remember you. And scratching at the surface with my pen to understand I paint your picture. Every dark color and nasty need. The way you pounded on the ivory keys, fooled to think … Continue reading Paint You Away
He speaks that betrayer's truth, dear, that secret that makes me ashamed. Such a simple thing, on short lived event, yet why does it matter so much to me? The betrayer's truth, oh how it stings, I know it full well in all its depths. Yet the final blow is when I realize that he … Continue reading Betrayer’s Truth
She told me to call him Father, because my real Daddy had abandoned me long ago. And she said this with her new husband in the room. Father didn't like me. Said I didn't know respect, though, to this day, I've never been able to peice together what made up his needed respect. She told … Continue reading My Second Step-Father
Back in the days when I knew the passion confused boy, we had a story-telling dream. The details didn't seem all that clear to me, as they always are for those starting to believe in their ambitions, but he seemed to have a grasp enough on it to know that, wherever we went, we'd be … Continue reading Not a Demon
Author T.S. Lowe 