Weeds.

You grew from the roots

that we planted.

Vined your way to the top window

and climbed in.

Furnished yourself a home

New

You’re new

but not like a fresh shirt or socks.

You smell familiar

like walking into a bar on a chilly day

Burial at Sea

The sun rose slow today and paused at the hour

When we gathered our living to the waterline cower.

The echoing ignition of the bolt and barrel rang

As the roll call paused for a voice that never sang.

The trumpet wailed as eyes began to swoll,

Knowing soon the sea will hold the greatest soul.

The Sailors made their ready as the ship began to still.

A Night at Sea

On cold nights like tonight,

I bury myself into my covers.

The odd hours of the midnight wakers

keep the halls lit with noise.

Their words hit the metal walls with a loud ping,

On Sleep

I can’t sleep.

The sound of the fan drags its breath

like the fingers across a chalkboard.

The warmth of this room is arctic,

and the nightmares from last nights dreams

have feared me from submission.

I thought the moon here would rest easier,

but it still hangs on severed strings,