Two Years Gone

Hi Ryan. Just in case you're somewhere wondering if we still miss you, the answer is yes.

Have You Really Been Gone for a Year?

It is so hard to believe. Time accordions in our grief. Expands. Contracts.

It's as though we just saw you yesterday. And yesterday was a thousand years ago.

You were wearing your orange plaid shirt and smoking a cigarette. And laughing.

Probably at yourself.

The days go by. And still, we miss you.

Tomorrow is one year. And still, there is no way to quantify our loss.

Today is Ryan's birthday.

We miss you, Ryan.

"War"

by Ryan Seramur

half mad and sober

the morning light is

annoying

and the wounded soldiers

curse like sailors

(in a clackity native tongue)

as I toss them away

to their empty garbage grave

bukowski is a bad influence

because I've decided

to kill a lot more of them

challenging me from the trenches of their

ice-box battleship

I attack with vigor

the day has just

begun

Untitled, by Ryan Seramur

"4/4/06"

by Ryan Seramur

Up in the night from rest,

the deep placid facade's caress,

upon which my sorrows emerge,

deaf to reason, impossible to purge

Within the moonlight whisps

all my sad thoughts and blunders,

the burden of every mistake and thunder,

oh the rain which never dries

Damn that awful name,

two years now in refrain,

a weakness so overtried,

leave me be, allow some pride

And in the catacombs of my worry,

I cannot feel joy's meek breast,

so I sit in this stark impatience,

and pray my skin to shed anew.