"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

The Concussion.

Pull me from
this concussive state.
I can't see straight
I don't want to
and I won't look you
in the eye,
because when I do
I see trails of smoke
a fading line
of what we used to be.
I see stars
spangled and caught
row on row in symmetry
and I'm lost in it all
and my head pounds.
It still pounds.


  1. the repetition really nails it down JB

  2. Really great with the emotion and slight edge of desperation.


"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."