Lost and Found

And the train continued quietly steaming off into the night.
You left, and took my heart with you
Leaving me the color of breathlessness.
How I ached around the open hole, running fingers along the uneven edges and crying into my pillow.
My nervous anticipation was the only thing left to hold in my hands
Like the prayers that someone would see my address
on the corner of my unplanned stowaway heart
and send it back to me.
The shade of death overtook me
kissed me once in greeting
And told me it was time to let it die.

I stopped checking my mailbox and looking over my shoulder
My feet found lightness again and my mouth sank back into skyward curves.
I even found my heart again.
Found it could still break and still beat,
I could live with all of it's cracks and learn to be thankful for the lines.
I discovered that failing was a choice
And I could still dust myself off and decide to be happy each day.
The choice wasn't always easy
And sometimes the only joy to be found was the acceptance
that I had lived past my worst decisions.

And one day, under the glow of supermarket streetlights
I found I could let my heart be stolen again.
But willingly and gently into the night it went.
Walked with the hem of it's dress kissing the grass.
As if it had never come crawling back limping over
rough miles and the broken glass jars of wishes
fractured under it's weight.
I learned that love is the decision to become defenseless for the chance
to glimpse into the essence of God.

I am young and foolish enough to feel endless
but every story ends.
Not all of them are wrapped up in bows of their completion.
Some are messy with notes scribbled in purple crayon and highlighter up and down their margins
But I also know that the most well worn stories are the most loved.
So even if I have the scars I no longer remember the battle, just that I won
I have the miles but don't remember the wrecks, just that they were miles well spent
And when life disappointed me and let me down I know that every agonizing second led me to this moment
and every heartbreak was well worth the wait.

Pain is...

Pain is living when you are in love and not loved back.
It's the moment when you grow up.
It's being too old for the monsters in your closet only to rediscover that they are still there and they are people now.
It's the still sore unfamiliar holes between baby teeth and your first kiss.
How everything could be the same but different now. 
And some places can't be returned to.
No matter how eager you are to leave them behind,
Or how much later, humbled, you try to get back.

My Day At The RMV by Garyson Winn

There is this old woman with a string to secure her glasses to her face. She is frail and cannot stand properly erect without the aid of her cane. This woman is allowed to drive. She Doesn't have the ability to keep her bifocal glasses on her face but she can drive a 2000 lb moving object at speeds up to 65 miles per hour. She has been deemed acceptable by the state of Massachusetts to be safe in her community and to make split second decisions when it can mean some bodies life. Holy shit.


There are two children next to me of some sort of Spanish decent. They can't seem to sit still. Perhaps because they had lucky charms for breakfast. They have silly straws that they were playing with but I see no evidence of a cup in which they belong to.  The mother keeps telling them to shut up and sit still on the wooden bench I'm sitting on. They constantly shake said bench. I dream about throwing them off of a bridge. The one child has a pony tail but is more masculine than the other child and is wearing Mike Jordan brand sneakers like a city style gang member would wear before icing a fellow shitmark on society. The boy starts to cry when the mother takes said silly straw away from him. Oh cruel world. How could he have been dealt such a cruel fate. The straw is gone forever, into the black hole known has mi madres purse. Stay strong little bendejo. Stay strong.


 It's a lot like what I imagine the end of the world being like, a bunch of people standing around relentlessly struggling to pursue personal gain. I believe that each town should have an adequate RMV. The Springfield RMV is under staffed much like any state development. So I give 48 minutes of time plus whatever the cost of registration which is my hard earned money and is also another investment in my life. The time adds up and the state is draining me of what ever resources they can take. There is a Russian boy with a mullet and he is here with his girlfriend who looks ghostly. An  extremely large woman just walked past me and the smell of urine followed her and now she stands near me entrenched in the smell of pee. It's so bizarre.


I'm beginning to think the urine smell is coming from some gilligan looking mother fucker in front of me who is 20 years over due. Surely a man who pisses himself and doesn't have the social awareness to realize it should be a safe driver. I feel super safe now.


There is a gentleman to the left of me explaining a grievance he has with this department about how everyone else is a bad guy for negligence. The reason he is at the DMV is because of a DUI he received two years ago. Usually a police officer will let a person go if they can speak fluently.  So this man must have been super trashed. And now he's paying the price for his negligence. But stupid people make false rationalizations. This is why it is impossible for them to learns from their mistakes.


I'm the next number of the A variety at the DMV. They have been only calling A,B,C, and D variety and now that I'm the next one in line they start calling I and now Z variety. What the fuck? Now they are calling every letter but mine?! Holy shit.

Sometimes I secretly wish something bad would happen to me
So you would give me the sympathy
To slow down
For a change.

Random texts to you

Today I am thinking about children who have had to beg their parents to love them. And they know no other way of life because this has been their way of life since they were born.
And I am thinking about beautiful things people have said. And I am thinking about you.

How I bring you thoughts that I would be to embarrassed to share with anyone else and I know that you listen and they are safe with you.
To me, that is the most beautiful thing in the world.

Especially when you've been let down so many times, as we have, there is something precious and valuable about trust. That you can open your heart to a person and share all the beautiful, delicate, fragile things you've been keeping to yourself to protect them. And you don't only get a chance to share them but to celebrate them as well.
All those things would have never seen the light of day had you not met the person you could trust them with.
They would of been kept secret in your head until they got buried under layers of disappointment and you forgot about them and lost that little special part of you. I think that's part of the reason people lose themselves and give up on life.


" When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth. " Billy, age 4.

"Exracting stings from wasps in flight .."

"who killed Mr. Moonlight?"