Keep the light on. The darkness scares the little in the old me, and I have forgotten how to tame it. Leave the light on, forget the electric bill, and let me sleep just for a night beneath that glow. Keep the light on, just while I sleep. In night and darkness I am alone. … Continue reading On Panic Attacks
My mother always had a inappropriate way about her. To this day I can still see something like a wild, passionate teenager in her that wouldn't look out of place at a beer-bong party or tearing off her top in a wet T-shirt contest. I also know that she would laugh if I told her this, because … Continue reading A Wild Spirit with a Tame Heart
We all reach this point, I believe. No matter what point in your life you are, there's a sort of private, pathetic shame to being an artist. We don't invent the next medical miracle. We don't easily provide a huge house and car for our family, most of the time. And, most of us, rarely … Continue reading When You’re Ashamed to be a Writer (or any other kind of artist)
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
I know there is the sublime to reach for. Kneeling with fire in her hands and golden beauty as her cloak. But I'm here. Single-wide bad paint job debt and treeless sand. I know, somewhere, exists a dream maker. Framed with lightning, outstretched wings, and a rain of crystal or diamonds. But I'm here. Sick … Continue reading Not Living the Sublime
Ah, son of star I see you, up there, blinking and wavering from the constant burn. What you wouldn't give to fall from heaven and dive into the ocean. But the ocean is vast and dark and cold, and so very unlike the family of stars. Burning, as they may, from the essence of their … Continue reading Son of Star
*To a slow jazz tune* Last night I was dreaming I was singing not on Broadway or a big stage just somewhere with ears to hear Maybe quivre'n with fear like me like me. I was dreaming I was singing like I use to in a small school strong with youth. In perfect harmony all … Continue reading Dreaming of Singing (song)
What options are left in times like these? When I have sunken down so deep the sunlight cannot reach and I can't see any rising bubbles. I go right, it's still black I go left, might as well turn back, and, perhaps, I hadn't turned at all. So, do I sink or do I float? … Continue reading Stuck in the Deep
My love, You were raised with your father's ideals but by your mother's pragmatism. When talents first bud upon your hands, you clapped for joy and squished them between your palms, making room for more, but not height for growth. My love, You spy the light on the other side with delight, for look, a … Continue reading Wet Wings
Down the worn carpet baby blue, but beloved to the door I was so familiar with touching My feet, small then led me to the bed where my father stood oddly haggard as he woved, peice by peice his strewn wardrobe. 'Father' asked I Little voice. 'Where are you going?" His answer was vague even … Continue reading Of Step-Dad the First
Author T.S. Lowe 