Author: martist

Ironic

Today while eating a cherry compote parfait in front of the windows at work, I was watching the first rain of the season drench the parched desert and thinking – “here is the life this drab landscape needs.”You died. And isn’t that ironic? Someone remarking on the beauty to come. Someone leaving it behind.

Arrive

I’ve always found that poetry just sort of “arrives” when it’s ready. Sometimes I’ll be falling asleep, softly slipping into silence, and a line or an image will pop into my head and I’ll have to roll over, find my phone, and write it down. Other times, the whole thing arrives at once. One time, […]

Dichotomy

Somedays I wake up and everything feels too small.  I lose a year of life waiting for the coffee machine.The news grates against the inside of my skull. The dishes insult me from the sink.  My body is a mutiny –  I will not walk the dog.  I will not eat another bowl of oatmeal. […]

Thursday

What is it about Thursday that is absolute garbage? You’re so close to the end – you’ve endured so much. Blessed weekend is close enough to feel the copious amount of carbs, alcohol, and poor life choices on your face. But alas, you are not free yet. There are still 10 meetings, 150 Slack messages, […]

Heavy

There are no colors within mebut something blooms.It has taken root in my gutand matured in my chest. Winding it’s way into my limbs,wrapped around my muscles, sowing fatigue into the cells. Slowly –until my whole anatomy is heavy. Crawling up my ribcagedespair sprouts in my lungs,grows up my throat,and chokes on the oxygen. Loneliness […]