Author: Aren Goodwin

"I love you." The words have always been more punctuation than promise.. A way to heighten hopes, before heading out the door. An exclamation mark, that put too much pressure on the words previous. Reckless abandon, that rustled up some writer's block, and left us both at a loss for longing. For, we are survivalists,… Continue reading Survival Made →

I never put much thought into where I'd find my next lung full. I just knew I needed to wrap my web of limbs around whatever stone shone, lonely, at the bottom of the well. So I fell.. Without a plan, or a sight of steady hands. On my own, I almost swam, but never… Continue reading Fresh Air →

Last night was my last run, of some lost and rotten film. Propped up on a projector, wrecked by the respectful climb of passing time. Each frame, has become warped with warts and fame. Overplayed, and all too often called by name. So today, I say, "okay, leave!" No longer praying prey, overpaying for an… Continue reading A Picture Promised →

Won't you free me? Point out all the skipped spots, where I missed my own cleaning. Seems that every inch of rust shown, has a mixed and misled meaning. As if my flaws are cards drawn by counting. Placed all too perfectly, to keep my whiskered side pouncing. Know I never aimed my angst at… Continue reading Glued to Blue →

And so, my cure becomes your curiosity. Caught up catapulting questions, wrought by moss and animosity. Always aimed at my ankles, with quite cautious velocity. You all too often know best, though the worry's awfully lost on me. See, lawful thoughts like these, I've tossed aloft for ten years. Though they've only slowed the oil,… Continue reading Lawful Thoughts →

I've been tested. But, I stress to you, believe! That in chasing a chance at manhood, I clenched, and couldn't breathe. I felt every bit as free, as your average dad believes a bottom bitch should be. Or... So it went, in my maple tree. And what kind of waste of space am I, to… Continue reading Testy →

Wake up. Waste my good face with a buried brow, and ask, "Who the fuck paints like that?" The memory has melted to the floor. But, I've just a couple fragments left, of flying human hands. A shattered recollection, far from the future I had planned. You must understand, each moment makes the most of… Continue reading Painted Poorly →

I'm at a loss, for feeling optimistic. With the awful odds, I either dropped or missed it. The feeling that fair weather's warranted, and I could someday come unpeeled as oranges. So I stood by myself, before a bored crowd. Without the wealth, to sing the score loud. For, I'm more or less abhorrent now.… Continue reading An Unpeeled Feeling →

Sitting up. Smiling, even. Blessed with eyesight by the blindest heathens, who's shadows shrank my spiteful demons. You see, I used my mask as a matchstick, so any castings of the past were lit. Then, I turned to the hungry hounds, those bent on spreading their own dread around. I blew a kiss, and believe… Continue reading Something to Smile →

Bulletproof, shouldn't be, the necessary bare minimum. Yet, now, with every word I cease to breathe, for fear of spewing solar flares, and cinnamon. And, each time I let the pests back in again, they poke, prod, and paw print o'er the last of my innocence. Their thoughts as soldiers sent. So I revived, bulletproof,… Continue reading Bullet Bruised →