Tristan's Blog

                                                                            By Tristan   Prison does not suit me but I wear a prison suit that fits me. The neck-tie tightening each day, asphyxiation attempting to determine me.   My heart’s shattering desires attention, yet is appropriated by moments of vulnerability guarded in fleeting shadows.   I am alone here but never alone. The proximity of bodies that are confined with me, tide like a dense fog moving in on me.    Traveling on a stranger’s eyes flowing like lava through blackened skies, I wait for an hour where I am not so alone. I am always waiting.   Crouching in the corner of my box, pulling up imaginary walls around myself. I write fragments of poems about the things I’ve done – about the things I will never do.    When night arrives it’s lighter than the dark inside here. Slivers of moon catch the tips of razor wire, luring, startling my senses.    My mind seizes for a moment around the totality of my circumstances. Thoughts

                                                            Stolen                                                                  My lover, a fire crying in the sun. Affliction that cannot be distinguished beyond the mask of passion. In the far distance the gentle river. I am yet to feel its cool, tender flow.   Evening’s relentless perspective bears lava skies, warning my sailor soul, still I voyage. I split my heart in two and gave away half. With reckless greed, you took the other half as well and left me shivering under the moon.   The darkness would not conceal me, cruelty assured that.   Against a putrid rank I am swallowing what once held me.   Hurt comes often but feels unfamiliar, stinging in a different artery each time.   Fragments of myself are disassembled like a mannequin; discarded remains. Scattered on the eyes of the floor. Emotional components that cannot be just snapped back into place.   My thoughts have become the silent third partner in my relationship with myse