Mar. 06, 2017
These hands of mine.
Olive skin buckling under the weight of leftover energy.
Gasoline in my veins always.
Drained of the California blood thats plagued me for twenty three years.
Spilling it on the highway to the rebirth.
All for the shedding.
For the capturing of my own heart.
I still find it in other’s treasure chests.
This hell of a Davy Jones locker.
My ship’s sails black and tattered,