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
Tell me how to fix my drug. I'll gladly yield my chains to the pill that gives me no high, no pleasant side effect, just the ability to almost almost feel normal. So tell me how to fix my drug. Tell me to take walks in the sunlit muse of evergreens and myrtle trees, and … Continue reading Tell Me How To Fix My Drug
Electricity changes from month to month, But, on average: 100...Maybe. Garbage: 20 Phone: 48 Car Insurance…we’ve been in too many wrecks. Medication: 50 something That changes all the time But I’m mostly ashamed that I even have it. Gas: 200 More insurance: 93 Because it’s illegal to not have enough. Groceries: I don’t want to … Continue reading Budget
Take me. I'm too sleepy to be fit for initiative. The world about me roars and churn, but all I wish is to be, drifting along my cool river through summer trees, bills and papers floating past me. Don't try to inspire me. What action can one, who is caught up in breathing and trying … Continue reading Take Me
Scrape me off till I'm just bone, no muscles left to ache. Leave me limp on somewhere soft and in the sun to bake. Pop my joints, let nothing stick to aggravate or scorn. And when I'm done resting in peace, put me back once more.
A ghost walked through my door, tagged along by a tiny, three-year old responsibility, and asked me nothing, but heavily implied and sagged until I offered a bed. A ghost walked through my door, heavy, weary, with echoes of drugs in my head, medical or otherwise, waiting till I offered food to announce that she … Continue reading Bringing in a Homeless
I whisper to myself jealously that I'll be alright. My body's gone this far. My brain will be the first to shut down, like an engine with just one too many miles. But the rest of me is still fresh. But tomorrow I will be clean. Start at dawn clean the places I have been, … Continue reading The Day My Brain Busts
It's dry and gray outside. I'm dreaming of naps and Monsters, despite knowing the chemicals will induce unrest. There's bumps minute in pain, but satisfying in their defeat covering my forehead with puss. Blink up, dry eyes, to rain? Not yet. Skies here love to tease too much of moisture. Deserts don't do me well. … Continue reading Dry
Tell me why I'm still standing here, head tilted back, mouth open wide, for rain to drown me on open land. I'm clinging for strads of atmosphere, but all it is is air. Tell me whether to stay or go when what I long to do is fly. But even if I were to reach … Continue reading Earthbound
Author T.S. Lowe 