the smedley log - suburban scrawl

incidental charity

I carry my gold
in sacks shot full of holes, and
wonder where it goes.

neat suburban boxes

the baggage we all
carry around has this way
of dragging you down.

(stolen from here)

reflections through a time warp

… what you were meets what
you’ve now become, grins and says,
“hey, haven’t we met?”

(source)

vincent

seen him despondent
a few times of late; sometimes
love is hard to take.

(source lyric)