I bury poems
in this blog,
like a graveyard
scavenger hunt.
Body, bones
and blood,
laid to rest:
read in jest.
We were meddling kids,
reading Sylvia
and wanting more,
less affected by life.
Now, as future monsters,
we haunt the past
like a hipster grim reapers,
leading souls to our poems.
Here lies
a bunch of lies
Ryan told,
but never sold.
Rest in peace
between the pages—
digital and paper—
and live forever.
X marks the spot,
but only after
you have found
what you've been looking for.
The quest
is the destiny;
find me hiding
behind tombstones stanzas.