This is no other way. That is so true you need to keep going forward while the euphoric feeling is there.

“Death walks beside me,
slow, patient,
hands in pockets,
whistling something,
like it’s got nowhere better to be.”

Beautifully penned, Thomas. Excellent write my friend. Really dig the stanza above but it was all amazing. Appreciate you.

Damian

Great work, full of fire and grit.
Regards
James

Thank you.

The way you describe death walking beside you with his hands in his pockets, like he’s not worried because his time will come as it always does in time and he’ll be there for it…all wrapped up between the moments of gorgeous nature unfolding around you…this is a masterpiece! Also, there is a distinct feeling of tiny death found in witnessing something so incredibly awe-inspiring beautiful. Brilliant

You are fantastic. Thank you.

This is freaking deep and introspective.
This really got me “still be someone? And not someone?”
I took it as can I still be a person and just not another number.

Hey, my friend…This one aches with honesty—the kind that doesn’t clean itself up or ask for forgiveness.
It’s messy, human, and brave as hell, the voice of someone still standing inside the wreckage and telling the truth anyway.

Oh yes…..I’ve heard my poems read by machines…it’s hideous.

Oh, I’m a sucker for free verse. The way this flows. The unapologetic confessional narrative. This is bold, brave, vulnerable. It is all soul, and I love every line of it. Thank you. Very powerful.

haha. Lydia Deetz. Beetle is my man, or maybe it’s my childhood crush on Michael Keaton that has me thinking this. He is and always will be my Batman. I digress. I very much plan on reading more of your work. Sometimes I simply read and like, but since I have your permission, I will definitely offer my feedback. You can look at any of my posts and critique them. In fact, I could do with some critique of my last post. I’m thinking of polishing and publishing it. I know it’s rough, and I have thick skin. So do your worst.