The writings of Hunter Coch

alone

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No Way

In search for the road,
Seeking a destination.
Lost in wilderness,
A state of desolation.
In the forest of be-ing.

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Held to Dirt

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Dreams of death haunt me,
I see my children weeping.
Looking from the grave,
I long to kiss away tears,
Though forever held to dirt.

-Hunter Coch


Lost, Three Tanka

1.
Despair rips across
Thoughts and vivid dreams of life,
Opening the mind
To visions of hopelessness
And paths that lead into fog.

2.
Lost in grey water
That floats silent through the streets
Touching broken hearts,
Breathing life into dark thoughts,
And a future of white pain.

3.
Pale is the autumn
At the dawn of October,
Atop rain-soaked streets
Full with the wandering lost,
All they see is a warm home.


Feel

I don’t feel like a man
I don’t feel like a person
I don’t feel like a human
I don’t feel like I belong
I don’t feel worthy

I feel worthless


Bleeding (Censored)

I’m falling,

Falling from the mountains of emotion,

Falling from the epic climb up cliffs and peaks.

I can smell piss,

It permeates the house and carpet,

It lives in the furniture, I clean and the next week returns.

I’m lonely,

Living day to day with minimal adult interaction,

Living in a house but unable to make it a home.

I crave,

Longing for the inebriation and sweet forgetfulness of spirits,

Longing for times when the weight is still there, but considerably less.

I’m tired,

Sleep comes in short bursts and then poor in quality,

Sleep brings good dreams, the only reprieve.

I cry,

Tears in the early morning, before the sun rises,

Tears of self pity, emptiness, and loss.

I’m nauseated,

Puke is always at the point of expulsion,

Puke is always fought back down, no time for that.

I’m sad,

Saddened by the mental incapacity of the father,

Saddened by the hurt I’ve caused the ones I love.

I exist,

Only by the will and strength of diapers both young and old,

Only for the love given and the smiles of my children.

I live.


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Warm Sheets

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Photo by M.Gueniévre

Lying on warm sheets
Waiting for her lover’s hands.
She breaths in the day
And touches herself gently.

Sweat beads on soft skin,
Her body erupts with life
And deep sensation.
Ecstasy is in her hands.

Ecstasy waits for no one.


Shivers

Her hand reaches deep.

At the brink she lies alone
With shivers and sparks
And a deep rhythmic motion.

The fires of exactly.


It Screams

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It screams from beyond

Sanity’s deep perception.

Delving deep within . . .

 

Oh death, we cry, come take us,

Oh death, we beg, release us.

 

It drinks deep from pain

Ripping out forgotten thoughts,

Leaving but a husk . . .

 

Oh death, we cry, come take us,

Oh death, we beg, release us.

 

Alone in tremors,

In a spiral of despair,

Inconsolable . . .

 

Oh death, we cry, come take us,

Oh death, we beg, release us.