Poetry
Catching the Next Dragon Out of Here
Querying taverns and searching for a spare D-20
Published in
1 min readAug 2, 2020
Do you know if time is a healer or bard, when all we’re collecting are bruises and scars? It slipped through our fingers — set sail, spread the cards.
Call me chaotic as I fall apart.
Our conversations mirror in copy and paste.
Our complications they R A T T L E and S H A K E.
What a fool — What a world! — What a life
…What a waste.
I’m giving up easy, I’m walking away. That’s better than burning my whims at the stake. I hurt you to help you and you ran away. Maybe it’s me then, who’s outlived their stay.
In my imagination deep evergreens soar — I’ve coerced the captain and we’re leaving port. Past skyscraper lifelines, I’m climbing aboard.
Leaving Angels in tangles with sextant and sword.
