Author: Aren Goodwin

Everyday,I find a way to keep at bay the ever invasive aching in my heart,that sweetly speaks to me "Depart".So, me? I think I'll stay.It seems I have a harder part to play.It may be backstage, where the ropes fray fast.We may seem saved for the last page,but I'd hate to let my presence lapse,and… Continue reading My Wake →

Dissenter by default.Reluctant and run down rebel.Protest hero peacefully pissing in public restrooms.Terrorist tearing all her hair out.A soldier, but she wished someone woulda told herthat she'd be marching off to war.Everyday she dressed, and left through the front door.

Exasperation has made a laugh trackof my attraction to an easy life. But looking back only makes me crack a smileat all the crap I wracked my brain for,[she was really wrecked by pain more]to prove the room I'd taken up worthwhile."Wasted space"was a name I learned to make the most of,and even wag my… Continue reading Shelled Out →

Pain, suffering, woe, whatever.I've been the doubtful dealer, and the catcher's mitt.Receiver and conciever. For, in my younger fears, I flailed with shearsto trim their branches back,and manage the little left of loving limbs I'd cleft. In turn, I have cut my overgrown own without question.On a questfor what we need to believe is destined.Freeing… Continue reading My Overgrown Own →

"Welcome to the club, life is hard."He says, as he ignores all my scars, laid before him, only seconds before his marred,mocking, aroduous hard truths,bled all over my jarred mooth (sorry... I mean mouth).Do you think I got here, by wishing on a farther star? Fucking, NO! I clawed my way past all kinds of… Continue reading Para Ricardo →

If you ask her what she's after, she'd lean back on a laugh track, and awful acting,just to fill the nil that followed after asking. Because a mask is a firmer edge to grasp,than an exasperated gasping lack of labels, or that grasping crap you tack on.

I've grown to know, a humming in my hobbled heart. A tone that, on dirt roads, years back, got it's start, and slowly shook my soul to parts. Partly hardened, but far too soft to step up, when I was out of breath, held, by the neck, up. Stuck, but assured that I'm a lucky… Continue reading Hummer →

Exasperated, I trash it. One last grasp at ashes, before I relax, and make a final pass, with a past's worth of practice. "But what of all the cracks?" You may ask yourself. See, without the waste basket, erased from eye, by the piling high missed tries, and adolescent battle cries, we'd be still dipping… Continue reading Hail Failure →

As with an embroidery thread, a little less of me pulls through each time. I leave        a              listless        trail, which wouldn't exist, if I'd only lift my tail. And yet, it drags betwixt my legs. Where I simply wish, I'd been gifted a fissure instead. But fret not... My thoughts, a cost… Continue reading The Cost of Coffee Grounds →

I thought you broke me. That I was bound to broken glass, eat. And only smoke, breathe. But now, I see this as a symptom, (rather than disease) of never showing the whole ME in the first place. It's only now, that those notions seem less than sane. For, my breed, we like to bleed,… Continue reading No Need →