Its always in those last hectic
days leading up to the
next celebration.
Either on the Eve of that day
or a few days before that.

At the neighborhood bar
or parked along the coast at sunset.
At their mothers same old house
or one of the liquor stores
still open at two.

You'll see that face or faces of those who
were smarter than you,
those who were braver than you.

Those who took that first chance
they had and moved as far away
from this place as they could.

Those with the same city name tattooed
in the same spot as you on
that same drunken night so long ago.

Their eyes have less anger and '
their conversation is less about
the past and more about what's
beyond this place.

Something about their faces,
their wives, their twin children or
the true concern they have in
their questions.

The grief they express at finding out
another has passed with the year.
The questions they ask that you
purposely avoid answering .

That feeling you get at still being here
like a cigar store Indian or a
'Welcome Home' sign from the
last time they were here.

There's something in them
that died in you so long ago.
Something that grew in them
that'll  never grow in you
as long as you're here.

Something they found somewhere else.
Something you've been looking for ,
something you'll never find here.

i never knew an empty house
until i realized i didn't have to step twice
with my right foot
on the last stair before i
closed the door.

& i never knew silence,
though i think i thought i did,
until the night the kitchen light burnt out
& i sat alone til morning
in the glow of the old refrigerator.

& i never knew shock i guess
until the day they handed you to me
in a box that fit too well in my hand
& their I'm sorrys were silenced
as i shut the door mid-sentence.

knowing you were in that box hurt almost as much
as feeling your body go still in my hands.

i'll miss your eyes very much, &

i will always step twice with my right foot
on the last stair before i close the door.

With every deep wound
comes the gushing blood
; and with every drop of blood,
comes the ink for your poetry

I just wanted to post an update to every wonderful person who follows me, and say Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays! I know I may be a little late for other religious holidays (but I'm not for Festivus ;P), but I still wish you a great ending to the year 2016.

This time of year can be very stressful, or heartbreaking. Don't stress yourself out more than you have to, and don't feel so bad about whatever it is bothering you. The holidays are supposed to be a fun time, and a time to be cheerful. So go hang out with your friends and family, let them know how much you love them, go make new friends, have a few drinks! ENJOY!

Again, I wish everyone here a Happy Holiday, and a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

Also! Follow my new twitter @RyanWritesStuff for I haven't been on much, and you can keep updated with me on there. I'll follow you back, and it's a much better way to stay in touch too.

Carried sorrow her brow.
Unnoticeable till now.
Sadness dulls her features.
Misunderstood creature.
Framing within life.
Violent as knife.
Actions less planned.
Make no more stand.
Time for rest.
Deeply guessed.
Pain flows.
Tears show.
Pawn.
Gone.

847

Finite—to fail, but infinite to Venture—
For the one ship that struts the shore
Many’s the gallant—overwhelmed Creature
Nodding in Navies nevermore—

the rapid fire
of electric
pragmatic
wonderful
heavy
breath

on my
neck
ears
lips

hands
gripping
groping
teasing

hips
pushing
thrusting
grinding

chest
pressing
holding
panting

lips
*******
biting
kissing

oh but his eyes  
they
were
fixed
on me
the
whole
time.

The African sun.
So it's December
Summer in Africa
30cm away, that's how close the sun feels to the earth's surface
Naturally I have a short skirt on
And the worst thing I could have done is walk out the house
Because, you know
"I'm asking for it"
I walk past a few men
Who look at me like some meal
One walks towards me
Pretty young
He's basically ******* me with his eyes
As he goes behind me
Opportunity strikes!
HE SLAPS MY ****
Why?
Because I asked for it
Disgusted!
I turn
Slap to the face
Because he too!
Asked for it

Like stars fading into the blue of day
the blackness that somewhere slips away
how the sun fire burns clouds into the air
the river that wends through lands, a stream no longer seen
a winding path, a deer trail I follow, the sun shadows that swallow
the light of this sycamore forest, where time is somehow lost
amid the trees of blue and silver contrast
beyond these woods, my eyes follow
birds, that fly into the sky hills
far and disappearing.