Posts for June 15, 2026 (page 3)

 Once you were my best friend
A promise it would never end
You said we were magnets 
Could not resist the pull
Convinced me that we were mean to be
I wanted to believe
I needed to see
Unfortunately, life had a different plan
Twist and turns
Life had something else in mind
Time was not on my side
It all came crashing down
Complements so easily given
Traded for words of shame
Coming from a place of guilt
Broken promises
Left me with no other choice
Thrown away life trash
Now rebuilding beauty from ash
Understanding the challenge of the dash

everyone has a plan
until they get punched
in the face 
all hail the new king
long live the
new king

I love seeing the before and after photos

in trans groups online.

Inspiring messages say,

“It’s never too late.”

People transitioning at 50, 60, and 70.

They are the happiest they have ever been.

I bask in their joy.

sometimes
you just don’t 
have much left
to give away

just enough energy 
to eat 
and remember
tomorrow 
is coming

slip into the line
my 7th dr pepper
golden corral field trip 

Deep into the future
One Rachel Jerielle Hanlon
must have time traveled
back to 1980
Three years before her birth
there publishing some wisdom
under the pseudonym R.J. Hanlon,
“Never attribute to malice that
which is adequately explained by stupidity”
She must have done it in some attempt
at saving enough extra time and energy
to create and nurture hundreds of extra projects
that would do untold good in the world.
Unfortunately, her past self was still forgetful
and often left the razor
in the drawer.

And there is still
a family

Not here
but there was
once

I miss the
lemonade and
overeasy eggs

but I did
the squeezing
and the frying

I would do it again
if there were
people to do it
for

even when
I made
all my
own

A (monstrous?) being
What is it? (or who are they?)
The way it writhes and slithers,
but are those legs?
Sharp claws on display
tips of fingers, daggers,
trembling, reaching out,
are those human hands?
Rat’s nest of hair covering
(glowing?) eyes and (pointed?) ears.
Mouth agape, bared razorblade teeth
but no dragon’s fire or drake’s acidic spit,
just a mournful scream, does it (they) feel agony?
Tears fall down their rigid scales?
It’s on their knees, terrorizing, begging?
Wanting to live or asking to die?
Oh, what a terrible existence,
That is not in question.

read about this whippoorwill
(yes, I don’t use hyphens)
that spent 166 days on the border
of Guatemala before
winging his way back home
(presumably to my holler
or near enough)
and I think, did he know
those weren’t his stars
or did he not care because
you can’t find home on a map
just somebody else’s border