The writings of Hunter Coch

Dawn

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.

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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.


Image

Dawn Fog

image

A walk in the fog
Under the cool morning light,
Calm as the sweet air.

Joy drips from the crisp green leaves.
One lonely bird sings a song.