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Garden of Eden

August 3, 2009

by me

Garden of Eden – pale, empty, dead
Nothing this human carcass left unsaid
Rope, tree, rabid Impulsivity
“She don’t love me, you don’t love me”
So he hung himself instead

I never knew him.

Posted by rtillett

Filed in Uncategorized ·Tags: poetry

Me, me and me

I need to create to survive. Life has the unbelievable ability to suck itself from you, drain you, crush you, numb you. Sometimes it's hard to remember the pretty things, because it's all moving too fast too much of the time. I stop, I photograph, I write, I remember. Sometimes this prevents me from actually living in the moment and encourages my permanent residency in the past - but it's the only way I've found to capture, to remember, to make it all worthwhile.