by Ryan Olenick in Features
Sand whips towards your exposed scarred skin.
Left weightless
And promising the wandering souls a brighter future.
The grains burn as they leave craters on your skin.
Standing, back to existence you glide,
For more than yesterday,
Less than the letdowns you are used to,
Moving on from your past mistakes which left you in disarray.
by Ryan Olenick in Features
I feel sick with the skin you let slide onto mine
foreign policy becomes the regime we lay and worship to
everything is falling apart faster than i can rebuild it
the foundations our idol's stand so stern on will break
before they are even able to est
by Ryan Olenick in Features
From the start the ill-fated rejoice,
They celebrate the most self centered ideals,
In their sleep they can feel the earths rotation,
The soul hidden under the thick gloves they wear,
Chapped,
Scarred,
Frail,
Translucent.
Never reveal what is hidden below the discharge of the guillotine,
Hide forever under this land fill of corpses,
If you were to reveal and socialize with the outside…
This is self help.
2008 Woodie Awards