I can trace the lines where our faces intersect:
Two pools of blue pouring perpendicularly into a matching pair.
Freckles flickering in the same formula over curving cheekbones.
Waves of lips waning into identical winning smiles.
Narrowing noses nearing similar slopes.
As I take my brush and blur the lines into something untraceable:
A calculated delusion of warped features,
until I can't recognize the you inside of me.

[ Hay Meadows ]

We always think that we'll have more time.

Oil spills underneath my skin

Another untapped source of depression

Tapped.

I somehow find myself attached to detachment 

Blend everything i've ever felt into one;

black and white into grey. 

Nothing 

is clear 

but the

fog. 

MISLED YOUTH

My second full length book is finally
out, view it in its entirety by following
the link above.

It's about the sport and people that changed my life.

Enjoy.