oak tree tremors

"oak tree tremors"

watching the sunsets paint the sky you and i

still cold from last December. throw caution to the
wind and remember this was all for a reason. our hearts

beat strong and we pass the time as tumbleweeds. sunlight
keeps us intact when

our warm hands are not clasped together.

elevate

"elevate"

i am wrapped in a layer of red

rust. at the dawn's light my capillaries are mired
with white sand and shattered liquor bottles.

there is safety in the shadowed corners of a

room adorned with childhood antiques.

n/a

New poems coming soon.

September needs to end. October hurry up.

n/a

You can only despise things so long.

Then... you stop caring or cave in. Such is life.

n/a

I've considered writing more in this.

Consideration is a funny thing when all is said and done. It's just an another name for opinion. I keep listening to Sam Malone on repeat because it's a 4:43 summary of me (lately). I can't tell if my escapism is rooted in seasonal depression or in true desire. Probably some of both, to be honest.

The leaves just need to change their color and fall to the ground.

I keep trying to figure finances for next year in Bloomington. I haven't asked my grandfather for any money yet and probably won't bring it up until I figure as much out for myself as I can. I can't stay here though. There aren't enough opportunities for me to expand, South Bend is dead and so is everything around it. I'm not hoping for Bloomington to be the godsend I might portray it as, but I can't stay here.

In the end, I'm probably fucked.

n/a

Fall is coming soon.

I'd say I excited if I weren't so worried and pessimistic about things. I can already feel hints at seasonal depression and it's not even October yet. I get the feeling it's going to be a short fall and long winter.

I need to leave.

Everyone hates where they're from. I can't say I've met a single person who's completely content with where they live. It's a constant cycle of trying to find a balance between escapism and contentment. This is a game that I no longer want to play. I want to create my own roots and beauty elsewhere.

I need to leave as soon as possible.

tell me

"tell me"

sunlight

exhumes broken glass in the sand. young

men race across it on a brother's

dare. an invincible

smirk painted across each of their faces. cuts

and bruises were stories. they hung their

heads under a silver moon at the

edge of the boardwalk.

burns harbor, indiana

"burns harbor, indiana"

place the weight on cardinal's wings and
watch it shudder beneath the burden. the morning
light catches on the figure of

two boys hunched over a crimson corpse. when

they sleep the sinking feeling lays heavy in their
stomachs. boys wake up and breathe, their minds

bleed out the pain of beauty collapsed.