Video.

THE ROAD

The post apocalyptic ash runs down my shower curtain

Staining the undersides of my toenails 

And through the holes in my footwear I am reminded of the end of posterity 

Familial bonds decayed from disinterest and egotism 

I condemn myself 

I condemn myself

I create myself 

I condemn myself 

Walking and breathing

Then stoping and heaving

Falling and leaning 

Only to wipe away my face;

Streaming

Bonded by our pinky fingers 

We forged a bond that could only be broken by the final temptress

The black veil

And she came far too early 

Taking you slowly she taunts my dried eyes 

I tuck the white handkerchief away

Not yet 

The washcloth tied around my Adam's apple isn't much more than empty promises 

I broke the small ones

And the big ones caved that much easier

Apologies reverberate in my skull 

But easily deflect of yours

And the sharp edges are sending the mash-up out my ears 

It's no wonder hearing evades me 

Trees won't fall on you unless you let them 

That's just the statistics

But if they do, you'll see the eulogy of the passers by 

Etched into their bark 

And I am hoping I'll find yours 

Reading;

"Walk to stay away, stay away from the ranks of the breathing dead"

And so my feet bleed 

But at least I am not only breathing 

-Special thanks to Cormac McCarthy for the basis and title of this poem. 

Entreatment.

New life is introduced in floral prints and grammatical marks of inquiry 

Engulfed in uncertainty, denial, but mostly estrangement to prior constancies 

My limbs transcend the barriers placed by the stigmas my own mind has conjured

It's sweet and fast 

Like blowing out dead dandelion heads

And the final seed is always left for the second burst of wind from my lips

It serves to remind me of every job left half done 

Every job where "thorough" and "detail" were left on the couch 

It's silent, however the fingers puzzling across my skull

Are leaving a trail behind as treacherous as Sherman's March to the sea 

And when I look it the mirror the lines inter-tangle and wrap around each other

To form the eerie shape of a mouth

Crooked and cracked 

And with every furrow of my confused brow

It seems to utter the words "trust me" 

Trust me it says 

Trust me 

Investing such emotion into my own cognitive processes is uncertain 

And something I rarely do

But maybe this time I can do it

Because she told me to 

I