EVGS

Damp, in my waxed canvas jacket,
soaking in the memory of rain.
Shooting down blind streets,
rubber slipping on black tar.
 
My seat is a tattered pattern
of muted chevrons.
Worn thin by ghosts,
long departed.
 
I get off at my stop,
a situational ring
of fist fights, regurgitation,
knowledge, and vomit.
 
Steps carry me
over slick concrete,
but not from here,
I stay entrenched.
 
As the trenches writhe, I ride forth
in these sloshing shoes,
in this permeated waxed canvas jacket,
with a smile on my face.
 
Because I’m here,
under this moon, on this street

Inhale,
Eyes closed.
 
My lungs,
Fill with dust.
Dead skin,
And clothing fibers.
 
I stuff orange foam
Into my ears.
My roommate is snoring,
Heavily.
 
All I can hear,
Is the clockwork pulse
Of my blood sponge.
 
Hearing it so clearly
Makes me worry it will
Stop. Irrational.
Tick. Tock.
 
 
-Drew Evagreens-

Pacing around my room
Naked
Like a madman
Raving at the moon
I’ve got a word count
Of sorts
To complete.
 
I’m an artist
And an artist naked
Is free-er
Is more free
Ideas unbound
By the constrictions
Of clothing.
 
My roommate
And his girlfriend
Make art
In the next room.
 
I pause
For a moment
And listen
To the squeak
Of the bed frame
And the groans
Orgasmic.
 
It sounds like
A beautiful
Tapestry.
 
I am happy
For them
And jealous
Now back
To my pacing
This
Is
Art.
 
&amp

I put my hand through the hole in my chest and scratch my back.
The jagged cauterized stumps where my wings used to be are itchy.
 
How I used to soar over roadblocks and spot checks.
Giggling like a newborn as I passed by fears, just out of reach.
Defecating with glee on unwanted emotion.
“You can’t touch me when I’m up in the clouds.”
 
I pull my hand back through the hole in my chest and marvel at the slick red coating.
Red red red now dripping on my pant legs from my forearm and watch.
No matter how hard I scrub them, they’ll be forever stained.
No matter how ferocious I charge. Rhino. Racecar. Redline. Impact.
&nbs

Where was I
when you were bored.
 
Diving from cliffs
chasing other girls
dancing at shows
racing cars.
 
But probably
I was bored
 
thinking about you.
 
 

• drew evagreens -

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I want to hold your hand
and I don’t even know you.
 
I want to squeeze your shoulders
and tell you, “things will work out.”
 
I want to wipe the tears from your cheek
and carry your pain.
 
I want to tear myself into tiny pieces
and give myself away.
 
I don’t want to be happy
without you.
 
 

• drew Evagreens -

You don’t get to choose who you are
and you will never change
you will always be you
 
No matter what you do or where you go
you will always be the same person
that rushed headlong into this world
 
Underneath all the adopted clothes
and talk and mannerisms
you will always be you
 
Stop trying to be somebody else
because you are who you are
and you will never change
 
 

• drew evagreens -

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On a bus
Still in the station
The engine is off
But it will be leaving soon
 
Looking out of the windows
At unfamiliar faces
Looking out of that booth
In that bar you liked
 
We were still together
Sitting across from each other
Empty glasses between us
You would be leaving soon

As if rising from a dream, a white-out of greatsparks and heat encompass allspace. Where once stood the omnipotent black crackleless vacuum, now a libation in winkinglights and rock and spindlegasses, all of them dancing with jink and jostle for position, little tracts they seem to claim as their own. I blink and once barren marbles seem to have exploded with lifecolor, as their microbricks momentarily aligned in perfect cohesion. In the same breath it takes to smile in delight, a thousand needle-eyes that dot the everything streak and popout with a kiss.
 
On the mass with so many deeplush shades and coldtwinkles and grainwastes and reservoirs, tiny creatures are birthed

I am so not okay
Delirious vibrations
My whole body is humming
I can do nothing but plug my ears
and fall upon my mattress
praying for a quick passing into oblivion.
 
Sweet, sweet oblivion
Escaping to wheat fields and country sides
Surviving an outbreak of blood sucker
or flesh rippers or brain feasting monsters
Give me a shovel and I’ll give you hope
Embracing my pillow because there’s no one to hold
Destitute or desolate or both
I am so not okay
 
Bring me some night terrors
waking up with screams and cold sweats
It’s sad that my worst seems better
and more manageable than this mental isolation

Run into the woods.
The trees did not grow tall and wide,
worrying about the future,
worrying about what other trees thought of them.
Anxiety didn’t keep them in bed all day, unable to move.
They were unable to move and grew majestic in spite of it.
Lessons are learned from the best,
and who better at being than the trees.
 
Run into the woods.
One foot in front of the other,
each step a seed of confidence,
confidence to run with instead of away from.
Pass gnarled branches like the quirks and features that have irked you.
We are born beautiful like the trees,
so learn to love yourself.
 
And if you’re not ready

You’re a mess
A hot mess
Hair askew
Makeup smeared
Lying on the floor
In a pile of your own clothes
Reeking of gin and tonics
And Jägermeister
Your nose red
From trips to the bathroom
You tell yourself
“This will be the last time”
“I’ll never drink again”
You know it’s a lie
You’ll be back for more
As long as the long nights
Keep reality at bay
You’ll be back
You’ll be a mess
A hot mess
Doing what you do
To get by
 
 
 
-d. Evagreens-

Tearing down logging roads in a battered jeep
Dodging rocks and stumps and potholes
Laughing like hyenas as mud kicks up, painting the windshield
Gunning corners into tail whips and four wheeling terrain
We cry out at the near misses and near rolls
Living without tomorrow like country folk
As the sun dips we tear into the dark
of one last pine raked trail
Then shoot off down county roads lit by a full moon sky
 
 

-d. Evagreens-