Photo by Simon Zhu on Unsplash

October 26, 2019

Ran that…

Wrote this.

His shades gleam.

Must be blindly staring.

Grins the teeth to bore the moment.

Grateful the rocks beneath don’t fall as his feet go.

One after another, try with out thinking, your body knows the tempo.

The air from here won’t leave you — just trust it bro.

The next step is like a free-throw.

They’ll stare just smile.

Your worries?

You’re weak.

Wouldn’t last…

Not even a yoga class.

Tired from what in the fuckin’ world?

You shouldn’t even be here — go back to Word.

You bum you aren’t even worth the car you swerve.

But then he spoke about a plan that influenced him daily.

Writing to people he’d thank in the future so bravely.

All doubt but internal encouragement set him free.

Leaving forms but understanding the made men are busy.

When his city came in light to him he’d look no one in the eyes.

From an owned land up high — guided by watchers who spy.

An angel beneath him, an origin to relieve him.

He flew away so brave, showing up was the goal overcame.

There be no savior, million dollar check, or luck.

What there is becomes the light.

Into a future to own.

Just walk there.

And sit.

So be it.

Your thrown.

It’s lit.


Would You Help Fund A Writer?

Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: