Blast Beat Poetry

Most days are dreadful. Today was not one of those. I understand-- we all understand.

From the ashes, like an eerie silent battlefield,

DP

What's Not Happening

Photo by Amélie Billie

Hair turns to snow in a matter of months. Headaches like the guy in Scanners. Barbed wire taxes strangling the more you struggle. The only 4-letter word that truly offends: debt. Give me a heavy blanket to hide
Under
Forever.

From the ashes, like an eerie silent battlefield,

DP

D.W. Fearn VT1

I am selling my most prized mic pre for $1,750, plus $59 shipping. This thing sells for $2,650 new. It's going to be missed but I'm sure it will wind up well-respected in a good studio.

From the ashes, like an eerie silent battlefield,

DP

Heart Gone Awry

We not only survived, we made something tangible-- this was the priority. However, the problem lay in our inability to socialize beyond a certain length of time. When that fuse extinguished, we folded into ourselves and hid in the safety of 5-star hotels. Getting our kicks with sunsets, iTunes movie rentals, and room service. Knowing all the while: we are really and truly broke, no one to bail us out.