Not my home

The needles write love on my knuckles
while the blades write hate
I will not be stilled
till earth and water whittle me down
I could only wish
it would be quicker somehow
these waters are troubled
I’m crumbling as rubble
becoming the froth on the water’s edge
a slow release and decay
I wish to be dust not tomorrow but today
I am not a sabal palm
or anything other rugged
I cannot withstand eras
this earth is not my home but a cage

A deleterious soul

Photography & poetry by Spacetyrannosaur AKA Silverbackgorilla poetry

You are a deleterious soul

pushing the buttons of all who dare tread

within pushing distance

of your daily insistence

that you must erase their existence

or else suffer the consequence

of your wrath

dare they breathe upon the same air

dare they leave or come back

on the whims of their own time

Sunday Wordle: A house made of books

I am too small
and the world much too big
put me in a house made from books
instead of bricks
leaving everything to the imagination
with broken spines
as a sign
of worlds well lived
don’t leave me here constrained
in this broken body in bits
and the mind inside
that is folded a million times to fit
I can’t hold myself together alone
untethered in this storm
like a flag surrendering in the wind
comfort me with silk weaved wit and imagery
feed this insatiable hunger
for something to lift me from this black, black hole
don’t let me fall back to dust all alone.