the longer it touches his(my) skin becomes my(his) skin.
it's a western, henry
it's a downright shoot-em-up.
we've made a graveyard out of the bone white afternoon.
it's a downright shoot-em-up.
we've made a graveyard out of the bone white afternoon.
the first chapter.
i spend what feels like years walking up and down your rocky mountain spine.
i am your cowboy, a lone wolf— a solitary statue against a lovelorn black night
my stars are strung out between your two slivered yellow moons, sliced right down the middle
i spend what feels like years walking up and down your rocky mountain spine.
i am your cowboy, a lone wolf— a solitary statue against a lovelorn black night
my stars are strung out between your two slivered yellow moons, sliced right down the middle
the middle chapters.
the underbrush catches on fire before you can stamp it out with your boots.
this place is fighting us, telling us we’re not meant to be (here). it shouldn’t be this hard to live off the land
and yet there’s something like poison stuck between the sun cracks in your skin that makes it hard for you to breathe right.
this mountain air makes your chest rattle.
my whiskey blood runs dry
i have to fold myself into a letter to get you to notice me. over the fire,
between our tent and the stars— it doesn’t matter.
what are you looking at if you don’t see me? is there something out there? should i be worried?
take your wings of a hawk and go find a safe place to land on the edges of my horizon.
i understand if you can’t take me with you.
the last chapter.
a mass exodus, nothing but love left in a desolate plane. you, me— a buffalo.
we can survive a face off with a dead animal, but what if it's still alive?
i don't get the wild west. give me homegrown corn, give me midwest tornadoes.
your unpredictability exists in the unknowingness of where you end and where my horoscope picks up—
you will meet someone who will uproot your life and leave you broken on the side of a highway
before you realize the bleeding x's they have for eyes.
dead on arrival.
you, me, or the buffalo?
who's ready? who can draw their pistol the fastest? who can outrun that tumbleweed?
who can say i love you before the fire burns out? a last lone call against the blanket of night.
not you. not me. certainly not the buffalo.
a mass exodus, nothing but love left in a desolate plane. you, me— a buffalo.
we can survive a face off with a dead animal, but what if it's still alive?
i don't get the wild west. give me homegrown corn, give me midwest tornadoes.
your unpredictability exists in the unknowingness of where you end and where my horoscope picks up—
you will meet someone who will uproot your life and leave you broken on the side of a highway
before you realize the bleeding x's they have for eyes.
dead on arrival.
you, me, or the buffalo?
who's ready? who can draw their pistol the fastest? who can outrun that tumbleweed?
who can say i love you before the fire burns out? a last lone call against the blanket of night.
not you. not me. certainly not the buffalo.
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2023: a last love letter to my paradise | 1st Completed NaPo
2022: my house of bones pt. 2
2021: my house of bones
2019: in the light at the end of my tunnel
2018: love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on
2017: the entire history of human desire takes 70 minutes to tell
2016: my honeysuckle tool sheds
2015: ~my tornadoes~
2014
2013
2012
18+
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First
