The Fool’s Pleading

The echoes of rejoicing muted by the island’s sands. Drowned by waves of realization that we are sound itself reverberating off of infinity’s pretzel-ed pipe.

Social Security

The castles moved straight,
the horses made hooks
as the black and white shapes met their fate.

I was a lover

The question of my last breath is either sober or whiskey soaked. The continuous monologue in my mind reaches the end of its reel. I am not making sense but its my senses that make me.