HOME | DD

Description
The synthetic candle in the window glimmers,
out a signal in the nighttime,
too quiet to be called a word.
Clothes on the bed,
plates on the bed,
blankets in a pile.
A man,
a moth,
drawn to a screen
of synthetic light
and synthetic dreams.
He jumps chasms
in platform games
and painfully remembers
every hurdle he has never made.
Days pass
without showers
until the day he doesn’t eat
And afternoon fades into night
A man, a moth,
trying not to be seen
hiding in light.
Blankets in a pile,
plates on the bed,
clothes on the floor.
His Soul Is Lying Broken At The Bottom Of A Canyon
The slopes were always too high to climb.
He plays games until his hands hurt
and still he doesn’t stop.
He can’t sleep
when he should
so he relies on electric lights
to light his nights.
Someone told him to rest his hands
until they stopped hurting
and then he could start again.
His hands have been hurting for quite some time
but he felt compelled to continue.
The woman he loves is beautiful,
and her eyes alone light up a room.
He still wants the light of the sun.
The number of times he’s gotten himself up
from the same unscaleable canyon
on an unfindable route that takes him back to
his starting point
Would make you think he could make the jump.
His Hands Have Been Hurting For Quite Some Time.
A synthetic candle lights up the window
in the house of his parents where he’s been waiting a year

and someday soon he’ll get up and get dressed.
He’ll shower and go out.

Description
The synthetic candle in the window glimmers,
out a signal in the nighttime,
too quiet to be called a word.
Clothes on the bed,
plates on the bed,
blankets in a pile.
A man,
a moth,
drawn to a screen
of synthetic light
and synthetic dreams.
He jumps chasms
in platform games
and painfully remembers
every hurdle he has never made.
Days pass
without showers
until the day he doesn’t eat
And afternoon fades into night
A man, a moth,
trying not to be seen
hiding in light.
Blankets in a pile,
plates on the bed,
clothes on the floor.
His Soul Is Lying Broken At The Bottom Of A Canyon
The slopes were always too high to climb.
He plays games until his hands hurt
and still he doesn’t stop.
He can’t sleep
when he should
so he relies on electric lights
to light his nights.
Someone told him to rest his hands
until they stopped hurting
and then he could start again.
His hands have been hurting for quite some time
but he felt compelled to continue.
The woman he loves is beautiful,
and her eyes alone light up a room.
He still wants the light of the sun.
The number of times he’s gotten himself up
from the same unscaleable canyon
on an unfindable route that takes him back to
his starting point
Would make you think he could make the jump.
His Hands Have Been Hurting For Quite Some Time.
A synthetic candle lights up the window
in the house of his parents where he’s been waiting a year

and someday soon he’ll get up and get dressed.
He’ll shower and go out.