Sam Grimes

Writer. 26. "No matter how tall the mountain is, it cannot block the sun."

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Marked For Sorrow

Hey everyone I haven’t posted in forever but I’ve completed my first book and it’s avalible for purchase! check it out on my website, samgrimesonline.com

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Prose. | SamGrimes.

Twenty Seven. Writer.

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Shitty painting but whatever. https://www.instagram.com/p/BzcJWalHOOc/?igshid=3hoy59t91iry

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New easel. Ignore the mess. https://www.instagram.com/p/BzZTXhtHBQp/?igshid=1conoigw8o53l

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The severed ear of Van Gogh. https://www.instagram.com/p/BzZTNGrHaxI/?igshid=1k28o20pdldit

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Something worth its value

Loving a woman was freedom,

it was grandeur.

It was holding onto life

in a world giving only

Death and Utility bills.

It’s the one good thing

you have.

Loving a woman was living in

filth and shit and knowing

you had a vacuum to make

the room brighter.

It was drinking your last beer

and finding that you had another

six pack in the fridge.

It was luck, rolling a 7 on Craps

and taking the house but taking

more without the greed.

It was taking your gun from the

shelf in your closet and killing 

yourself neatly on the couch

only to wake up in the bed the next day.

It was a reminder that sometimes,

there are good things

in this life.

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My novel Marked For Sorrow is complete. Now to get it published.

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Only of One

Many do not know the

true feeling of being

left behind until

it hits them when

they wake up the next

morning knowing that

they were one with

the other.

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White noise

Writing was the way out

like reading the sunday

paper for some

forgetting all the things

around you and then

realizing the toast was

burning and the fire

alarm had been going off

for a full five minutes

before knocking the

goddamn thing off the wall.

And then pulling up the

paper during these little

indiscretions of life

to forget it all again.

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Waiting

Call it writers block

Or whatever you want

As I'd sit here staring

At the blank pages

Waiting for something

Smoking cigars

One after another

Smoke and ashes

Covering the view

Taking sips from

A jack and coke

Typing the drull

And ripping pages

Out and then putting

Another through

Staring at the whiteness

Like I was watching new

Fallen snow and I

Had yet to disturb the

Purity with keystrokes

And unguided words

Until something

prevailed and yet

Nothing had.

Nothing yet.