Writing gracelessly, without particular art or skill, but perhaps some enjoyment.
A whistle in the air, followed by a bang and a heavy rain of earth. I flinched and hunched over my rifle, bayonet cold against my ear. Once the dirt stopped falling, I raised my head to see Tony. He leaned against the log wall like he’d stepped out of the pub for some air. … Continue reading Over the top (Compressed Narrative)
It’s odd how beauty strikes / With an air deceptive and ordinary...
Should I be / flung out / past the moon…
...All I need is a look / A nod, a quiet humming / And I’ll believe I hold a nook / A place of true belonging
I watch you scrape and claw and tumble / Like flesh doesn't tear and hearts don't scar...
Days go by / and I don't think of you / at all / But then / I do / And I sigh
My toothbrush tasted of gin this morning / The cup I picked up, like whiskey...
When I stand on the beach / and let the sound of water fill me / feel sand between my toes
I never kissed you the way I wanted to / Never held you as long as I should...
...Are you familiar with your skin? / The way your body blurs where I begin / Making me wish for every sin / as your fingers twine my soul...
Balter Through the Pages 
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