Monday, September 28, 2015


We sat so long
the creased sweat on
our shirts dried
clean and new again.

Riley Welch

Saturday, September 26, 2015


I laughed too much.
So much.
Maybe it's not enough.

Is it a cackle,
or a giggle?

Why is a cackle evil?
Or crude?

Because it's from a witch,
or spirit?

I would argue,
they should laugh too.

Someone once let me know
all this laughter
was too much.

But to me,
it felt like substance.

Something to fill
the hollow of a lack of execution.

Something to validate
and give my emotions
some meaning.

Tears streaming
laughter spouting
like joy
expressed aloud.

Riley Welch

Wednesday, September 23, 2015


I sliced through words
like white bread.


There was a tear.

I consumed so many
In one day.
In one sitting.

I have to take a breath,
and expel them.

At a thousand words a minute.

I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry.

This is how it is when you fill anything up.
It runs and runs and runs,
my teeth clatter and

And I cannot take in another syllable.
I will burst.

Riley Welch

Monday, September 21, 2015

Did the Weatherman Tell You

Heat crept in
and I sloughed off blankets,
like layers of dead skin
that I no longer needed.

Cold Sweat Clinging.

Less sweet
than that of spring,
and on the back of your neck,
less satisfying.

A cold front was said to be sweeping through.
Highs only in
the 90's.

I laughed
and hot
and pointed to a million places
on the map.
All a million miles
from the scorching center
of the globe.

Riley Welch

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Cliff Hangers

What used to be fresh
out from under me.
And I fell
16 stories
to what felt like my

I don't think death is the right word.
And fresh couldn't
hold me
up any

and squishy
like so many ideas
I had once
that were flushed
down a drain

with a garbage disposal.

One whir -
and goodbye.

Riley Welch

Wednesday, September 16, 2015


Hey little whisper,
so sweet
so smooth.

Trickles down glass
slicker than water
and fickle
so sweet
and so little.

Riley Welch

Monday, September 14, 2015

3rd Floor Up

The days started
getting slower
and faster

And I lost interest,
But at the same time
they raced and I couldn't see them pass.

And the women behind a big desk let me talk,
and I told the truth
But I also lied.

And didn't mention
that maybe I just thought
this was the new constant.

Because the truth felt too much like
something that could make her

But she handed me
a folded up paper,
over and on itself.

With the words
[   ]
laced across the top.

And it felt fake
and I felt fake.

And it felt oversensitive and
and meant


But heaviness hung over my face,
framing it,
like those bangs, I tried to grow out,
when I tried to grow up.

Riley Welch

Saturday, September 12, 2015

12 + 2

I woke myself up from a dream where
waves were crashing on a shore
and the waves pushed and pulled
back in a rhythm I grew
accustomed to.

I worked with them
instead of against
and ran
back and forth
in sync.

The pitter pat of my feet
wet and hard on
cold sand

and it all moved to the beat.

Riley Welch

Monday, September 7, 2015

Two Spaces

How many endless
emptying's of my brain can I pull?

Pulling brisk and long
Stopping at the edge of my mind.

Like a landfill.
Like gold.
Just to me.

Riley Welch

Wednesday, September 2, 2015


And I walked alone into the desert.
Mostly because I like how each step
Seemed to muffle the roaring car
And the dirt went on for miles
and miles,
Rolling red.
And even a few
Totally silent.
Except for each grain of sand.
Sliding whenever boot hit the Earth.

Riley Welch