Interjection
Cold as a dry cube of ice sticking to my tongue, your eyes freeze me in suspended animation, when all I wanted was a pretty lie, not the naked truth.
Writings
Rising
I was a twang in the twist of your tongue, But bittersweet stole my butterscotch from your lips And left you panting, Afraid, and wanting more. You were shores of silence breaking through my colossal waves, And your oarsmen got lost in my loamy sea, Held seashells to their ears trying in vain to call
Cyclical
I keep wondering how I can speak the word God without sounding out the lies on my lips. I’ve dipped into religion but felt more cold and alone. Without sounding out the lies on my lips, I kissed her as though Christianity could become my tongue. More cold and alone, I miss when we were
Walking the Path
Walking the path, footsteps aligned. Who leads the journey? I protect the adventurer, her safety and stability my concern. So similar, my little me. My future aspirations; her visions, hopes and dreams. The push or the pull continues us along. *** Jake Snider is a retired retail executive returning to school full time to
Circle
Draw a circle In the sand, Plant the seed And watch it grow, Sun after sun, Until its circle has been run. Seed unto seed. Draw a circle Among the stars, Begin the year And watch it pass, Sun after sun, Until its circle has been run. Year unto year. Draw a circle In the
A Time Traveling Love Letter to Myself
I want to tell you to stop. I want to tell you to hold your breath—don’t jump right in; but you think you’re already doing that. You think you’re keeping yourself safe, but it will take you years to see the danger you’re in. I still wake up some days and marvel that I’m alive.
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