A friend in deed

“Thank you for reminding me not to kill myself today” she said, attempting to dry up the mascara smudged eyes.
Her friend grimaces, ‘Yeah, it’d be a waste of a beautiful day”
There are many jests that soften the pains that reality claws into ones life.

are you laughing?

In the sounds of laughter… there is is happiness, and (sometimes) hope

feeling

…And emotion is something unteacheable

What makes you a father?

Does it make you a bad parent that you turned your back on your child?
Or is your conscience appeased by saving your own dilapidated life. . .
There is much heart in people’s expressions this fathers day.
Even broken hearts.

Denial is un-metaphoric

My metaphors bleed into the silence of your denial

Hang over?

Drunk on dreams Or hung over by reality?

I confess…

I confess to sins of the flesh, to stolen realities, to murder, to betrayal of my own soul, i confess you did not enhance the value of my life, rather devaluating my humanity. I confess i love you. I lust after the intimate moments of being wrapped in undiluted passion. I confess . . . That I’m hopelessly helplessly miserably addicted to doses of you that contaminate my life. . . I confess, being in love with you is the worst type of hang over.