ruin
mon the wool will rot in a hundred years
the paint will yellow and crack
what will become of the old goat shed
will anyone play my fiddle?
031216
...
mon arrived at the door
with an old photograph

this the farm

old log house
torn down
the
rocks
remain


planted thyme where their garden grew
felt like a garden should be there

the fruit
packing shed barely talks
squirrels in the willow above
it was once a busy room
where juice was
wrung with hands working
now it is crowded
clogged
discarded unused

old drying rack

the tractor was a beauty in its day
031216
...
spoons my EE final...
*hangs head*
031217
...
belly fire I come here each day in hopes of a reunion; instead finding only the stuff of ruin.

reunion...r_u_i_n.
070215
...
crOwl of what i am in. 070215
...
prue I considered speaking to someone
about my thoughts
wondered: how much would it cost me?
literally.
070411
...
belly fire No, I could not possibly forgive all that...
but understand that I exist in a limbo where both the absence and presence of you are equally intolerable
(one of those can't live with her can't live without her ironies),
and, therefore, understand that I am only a ruin of Sam, partial and eroded,
so that you may live with a portion of the guilt for remaining silent when you knew it would only devastate me.

You, who knew my weaknesses, and tore me apart with them.
070422
...
birdmad morning walk before getting to work

took a path i'd not taken in a while since i don't live right by the office anymore

the eastern half of the steelyard is bare and the old abandoned school buildings that sat next to it have been demolished and scraped away, no frame, no foundation, no errant pipe fragments protruding from the ground

i liked the sight of it better when it was a decaying, foreboding ruin overrun with dead grass and live weeds

now, it seems more forlorn in its comparative sterility
070423
...
raze this is why i shouldn't be trusted with anything. it all turns to shit in the end, and even the best intentions die screaming with their eyes wide open. 221111
what's it to you?
who go
blather
from