the mountain of life

i’ll just keep
climbing until i’m dead
then all the thoughts
i left unsaid in my head
will leap into the sky
where stars have lead
a red sun into
the morning of my living
room, where i used to stack
my sugar up in spoons
to sweeten the caffeine
in my cup, when i
stayed awake and talked
too much to the moon
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: final

dead soils; dry fuel

bending ourselves to a
breaking point, stretching
the joints of our brains to
rework our limits, our boundaries
redrawn to encompass everyone’s
and one’s own expectations
within them, how can we
push our progress to the end
when our fuel runs dry?
sometimes we mistake the paths
of destruction by claiming they are
bettering ourselves, even if they
have taken away the sky
below our feet, leaving us
stumbling along dead soil on
desolate grounds in defeat

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: better

pajamas & crowns

people close in,
stamping their feet
beating the ground
with arrows and spears
you hear it all from them
saying you should change it up
try something new or bold
it all just gets old, though –
others throwing their
expectations around –
but there’s
nothing wrong with
staying in your pajamas
and not going out on the town –
sometimes all you
need in life cannot be found
in another’s assumptions, desires,
or goals or frowns, only you
can wear your crown
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: lifestyle

existence and archery

could something not living
without existence, without
breath, soul or heart
be at the wheel of the universe
of which we are a part of
no, i think not, but no matter
where we look –
above or below
we will perhaps never know
if we are the arrow
or the bow

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: control

regret & bones

they go in deep, under the skin
of the earth – we walk and roam
contemplating our worth on a
scale of many things, instead of
stopping, listening, and bringing
our mind to rest on the soft pillow
of peace sunshine warms with her hands
the comforting quilt trees knit
with their shadows as they stand
we rarely let go, setting our hearts at
full sail, the currents of the rivers
at the wheel, and yet we pretend
to be captains of our journeys yet
not truly owning up to how we feel
and trying to care for how we should
in the end, we claim life is about the cards
we are dealt and all the things we should
have felt and known, before those things
became deeply rooted amongst
regret and bones

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: roots


i’ll recline back in this derelict void
in which i’ve stacked up time i wished to avoid
let it scrape up against my back till i grow paranoid
my mind devoid and bereft –
until gradually – yet suddenly all that is left is
death, who performs the greatest thefts
by taking each and every single final solitary
breath and pressing it in between the pages of the air
the last breath dies without its maker, alone

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: jolt