Posted by: Devin | September 26, 2016

Map to the Wind

The stone at my back is cold to the touch, wet and slick beneath my trembling fingertips. It has been so long since I have felt warmth that even this chilly rock holds comfort for me now. 

My bare feet have traversed terrains of all kinds, from deserts of dry dust to tundras of ice. To look upon them is to witness a road map of all the steps I have taken to bring me right here. 

Looking out over the landscape, I pull out my map and toss it to the wind. Its meandering rivers, plotted courses, peaks and valleys have served their purpose. I have stuck to the routes laid out by those who have traveled before me, and now it is time for me to trust my inner compass to guide me where it will. 

It is funny in a way to think back to the landmarks that led me here. The crumbling statues covered in moss. The battlegrounds left empty, shell casings and craters left from explosions. Hieroglyphic depictions of the thrill of the hunt. The smoldering cinders of fires left too long untended. 

Before me, a fog concealing unknowns. A fearful drumming pulsates through my veins. Sweat streams into my eyes, burning my vision, though I’m ready to see. 

A whipcrack of lightning lights up the sky, to be replaced by the darkness of this mysterious terrain. Heavy with dreaming, anxious with hope, I wish on the thunder replaced by a star. 

Posted by: Devin | September 25, 2016

Waiting to be Whole

Her teeth are chipped and broken 

From gnawing at the bit

Of a tired, weary life made 

Harder by the hour  

And the postman’s counting letters

Returned to those who sent 

The inked addresses blurry

From the weather and the tears   

And a parcel tied with brown string 

Spilled its contents out

A thousand broken seashells

One for each day they wait 

A cat shrieks down an alleyway

Chased by a lofted rock 

Thrown by a horrid man who 

Harms to gain control  

A candy apple wrapper

And a box of stale popped corn 

Litter the street like fragments 

Of a past she’s never known  

She laces up her boot tight 

And buckles well her belt 

And traces with a thumbnail 

The blood still in her veins  

A streetlamp flickers blindly 

As moths burn powdered wings 

They fall to earth like angels 

Demoted to filthed flesh  

A piano’s plinking sadly 

From a darkened, shuttered bar 

By a man whose heart is longed for 

By a girl across the globe 

Who waits to be made whole

Posted by: Devin | September 24, 2016

Ugly and Broken 



Then pieced back together 

Broken again and again 

No one wants a thing that’s so  shattered 

With such imperfections to mend 

Lopsided and ugly 

A pile of rubbish 

Why would you want it at all 

Each time it is broken 

The pieces grow smaller 

Less likely to ever be whole 

The grit of ceramic 

Of ugly old china 

Pieces alone in the dust 

And the only repairer 

The only true mender

Is gazing at pretties 

Flawless and nearly brand new  

Forgotten, the pieces have cut themselves further 

Until they are lost to this world. 

Posted by: Devin | September 24, 2016

Downward Downward Fall 

Drop me from the sky 

Let me hit the concrete ground 

 While I plummet let the birds sing 

Songs of hatred and despair 

There’s no one there to catch me 

To hold me as I fall 

The lonely scream in my ears 







Posted by: Devin | September 18, 2016

The clock is stopped 

It waits and waits 

But it is broken 


Ugly eyesore on the wall 

Useless and dusty

Full of corroded battery acid 

Face smashed and destroyed 

At least it cannot feel 

Posted by: Devin | September 18, 2016

Electronic pulse of a heartbeat 

A blink of a long distance love

Why can’t it be me 

Why can’t it be me 

A cry as piano strings break 
Ink rots the pages 

The crystal has shattered

Why isn’t it me 

Why isn’t it me 

Chains tighten around the treasure 
The hourglass empties 

The light ocean has darkened 

I am alone 

I am alone 

A knife rips asunder the canvas 

Posted by: Devin | September 14, 2016

Forgotten Playground 

The seesaw goes up 

then comes down

Crashing harshly 

upon the muddy ground 

What use for playtime 

What for laughter 

The up and then down 

The high and then the low 

A ransacked playground 

Always empty 

No laughter exists 

Not here anymore 

Just empty, painful 

Decomposing joy 

A temporary thing to delight 

Like candy going stale

As the flowers wither 

Stronghold crumbles 

Forgotten, ugly steel 

Posted by: Devin | September 14, 2016

Empty Bucket 

Down the hill, there is a well 

with a little empty bucket 

And in that empty bucket 

there are reddened, rusty nails 

One for each time my heart broke further 

One for every hope that died

And that little empty bucket 

was lowered in the well 

It fell straight to the bottom 

with nothing there to fill 

It hit the stony soil 

and broke to splintered shards

There was no water in that well 

no life force to sustain 

To give that broken bucket 

a reason to exist 

And so I stood upon the stonework 

crashed myself below. 

Posted by: Devin | September 4, 2016

​The reason I was brave 

The reason I knew it was right 

The reason I know I can love 

The reason I know I’m not crazy 

The reason I have courage 

The reason I have hope 

The reason I believe 

The reason I feel alive

The reason I feel beautiful 

The reason I know I can wait 

The reason I had to be true 

The reason is you 

Posted by: Devin | August 25, 2016

Stranded Love 

​When, in troubled times, 

We extend a paw 

To that special friend 

And bravely voice our care 
Whiskers shaking, 

Tail a-puffing, 

sent back to the pound. 
We must hold steady, 

Keep on dreaming 

For that stranded love. 

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