Into the river, Compelled where it wandered, I gasped only to catch The need to gasp. A moment to think - back To the plummet, while Every sense battled. Screaming. Run. Cold ripped into me. Pain cut at my ankles. Wet suffocation, a Black abyss. Regret. Panic. Forget. Sadness. What was I thinking then? There is nothing worth this Fall into all of the Wild, good, night. Swim to the right again - Hit something under me - Slide over slimy scales: Swimming life The size of the creature, So calm in demeanor, The depth of the river Cannot match. Dying living Fishy Monster Right. Left. down. I cannot give into this, Mindless instinct kicks. Fuck what I’m dying for. I choose life. Right to the homeless place? Right to the family? Right to the miserable Loneliness? Left to the home I chose? Left to the cops and courts? Left to the battlefield? One soldier. Maybe staying. Maybe dying. Leg ripped open. Left to Sobriety. Left from the cavity. Left from the creature of Thrashing life. Memories o
Hi, I’m Tanner. I’m from Idaho. Solid intro Tanner, none of this is weird yet. Why does anyone introduce themselves based on where they are from anyway? Like, why is it that the most important piece of information we must know about people is where most of their baby pictures are? I might as well say “Hi, I’m Tanner, if my pog investment from the 90s works out after I die, most of them are in Idaho.” Remember pogs? Those circles that came in big green tubes. They were just circles. Made of paper. And when I was a kid, nothing was more important to me. And we were in a war at the time. SEVERAL! It was almost as if I could walk in on my mom in tears witnessing the wreckage of the Oklahoma City Bombing and still ask for pog money. Almost like that. That was so weird. They were just paper circles. Unless it was a slammer! How cool were slammers? If you're with me about slammers I guarantee I could guess the year you were born. I can’t defend the nineties, I just lived through them. I