The Hunter

He hunted me over deserts and tumble weeds
It moved like a bounty hunter and had leads on me
When I last saw him in Dakota in 1846 he bloodied my nose.
I got away on his horse

Fell to the way side
Posters over dry land.
He searched for me
I moved like a vagabond, running from the ripper
I was a ghost
I thought I had escaped the hunters grip
It scoured taverns, speakeasies and bath houses looking for me
I was clumbsy
Running from the hunter
I was set up
Ambushed by love
It caught me off guard
It hip checked me
We tussled
Dragged me by my hair
Like a fuckin’ cave man
To the tavern
While the towns people watched in horror
Some laughed and held the wanted posters up
Pointing fingers
It bloodied my nose
I chuckled
Then stumbled back
I spit
Spit my death in his face
And I laughed
And it shot me!
And I bled
And I bled out

He took a shot of that dirty whisky
Hand on gun

Tilted his hat

Looked around
And said…
Pay me

The hunter


Perizzites ๐Ÿ•ท lay babies in my brain
Forcing poetic germs ๐Ÿฆ from these mythological veins
I write โœ๐Ÿพand put my random thoughts in mind carved frames ๐Ÿคฏ๐Ÿคฏ๐Ÿคฏ
And I bask in my glory playing this poetic game ๐Ÿคบ๐Ÿคบ
My passion has no mercy ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿฟ
It has no senseless shame
Iโ€™m sworn to secrecy ๐Ÿคซ๐Ÿคซ๐Ÿคซ
I have no poetic gain

I savior every image because I donโ€™t want to waste it
๐Ÿ—ฃRunning ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธfrom the Antichrist because I know he will hate it ๐Ÿ˜ก
Using this poetry to soothe my poetic nerves ๐Ÿ›€๐Ÿ›€๐Ÿ›€
The truth is Iโ€™m lost without these poetic verbs

My garden ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ‡๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ„๐Ÿฅ•๐ŸŽ๐Ÿฅฆ๐Ÿฅฌis where I plant these poetic seeds
For all who roam my pastures to meditate and read ๐Ÿ“š๐Ÿ“š๐Ÿ“š๐Ÿ“š
It gets hard for me to breathe trying to fulfill this poetic plead
I take refuge in these words this is my authentic bread

My roots ๐Ÿ‚ are firmly planted far beyond my poetโ€™s tree!๐ŸŒด

๐Ÿ—ฃ๐Ÿ—ฃSo I scribe and plant poetic seeds!
Iโ€™m addicted to these words!
This is my pathetic need! ๐Ÿ˜ฒ๐Ÿ˜ฒ

And if I donโ€™t write โœ๐Ÿพโœ๐Ÿพโœ๐Ÿพโœ๐Ÿพ

I fear my brain will not remain

Trynaโ€™ master the art of







Weights heavy like burdens
In search to erase a thing
A thing!
A terrible thing
No amount of love can resuscitate me
To a normal thing
This empty land mind has swallowed my ethos
They look at me as somewhat of a weirdo
With blood on my shirt and dirt in my nails
I have the stench of lonely only the dead can smell
No person place or thing
Can resurrect me
I want to will myself a reset
To erase all the regret
My silence cry rivers and my soul is damned
To something morbid and sadistic
And no song I sing can erase the thing
That screamed at me in a dream to wake
Corners turn curves
To shake awake every unhinged nerve
Scream then disappear
I’ve been hiding from the boogie man
Haunted by memories
I will forever be trapped
In this dream
And no amount of love can resuscitate me

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Flannel with Faith

Embracing imperfection with faith, flannel, & fresh air

Andrea "Drea" Diaz

"In this life or the next...I will find you" Monique [Last name redacted] was the average runaway child from an evil organization who constantly wiped away her past life. One day, her fate intertwined with that of Lee von Solari which led her to live out an extraordinary life on a world at the edge of the milky way galaxy. Soon she would have adventures while piecing back her fragmented memories only to discover that some of them were not her own. In a land vastly known for housing the "rejects" of other worlds, Monique uncovers the makings of Eridelium.



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