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
Hold on. I'm still waiting for the non-existent past to beat-beat out that song that just doesn't sound real anymore. Not in the airy way of feeling high and-- no, like listening to soft lies, earnestly begging to be forgiven for being lies, and just be believed in. Bumb-bumb-bummer that someone with no heart wrote … Continue reading Lying Music
My breath tastes of green onion. Chai isn't enough to balm the taste. Desk lamps shine on lonely work, and I want to read to be taken away, but the clench the onion brings me back. I ate dinner. I function. I breathe. I live. And it sticks to me like green onion breath, overpowering … Continue reading I Live
"Things of the world," my Mama says. I remember her singing rock songs of the poor thumping her hand on the roof of my grandma's mini-van, and sipping a refil of Pepsi. "If I can't afford a pop, only then will I be destitute," my Mama says. I remember her bringing a bag of discount … Continue reading Mama’s Words on Being Cheap
Author T.S. Lowe 