Nine Boxes

My Friends Who Have Children

The house itself is one hundred and twenty years old. Entire families. Grandma is buried in the back yard. You shared a bedroom with your brother. You shared a bed with your brother. You worshipped your brother. He was cruel and he hated you. It could not be undone. The…

He is Not Defiant

When the Bars Close

the whole structure whose monotonous long sleeps thief your bike was on the front porch

The Boat Ramp

I left on the same boat ramp I came in on. You are a long way away. If you want it, I’m gonna be va va voom voom If you got it, you got it, you got that boom boom If you want it, I’m gonna be va va voom…

Gold Coins For The Boatman

ArtPhotography: Tim Barrus

He Disappears Into His Wounds

Spills Into Cups

their dancing spills into cups incognito but i know who the fuck you are/ your bones spread out like demons deep into the devil night/ and there it is, falls down, the challenge is to not allow the world to make you disappear, it will anyway, we are just the…

Memory’s Machine

après la fête le reste rages de poussière resté derrière se masturber à l’intérieur du cerveau enregistrer plus tôt tragédies désorientées par flou si parallèle événements https://www.instagram.com/timbarrus/

From Day One

from day one he has flown his flag/ it is usually a flag resembling surrender which is never surrender it is more like another declaration of war/ with his orders of this blood-soaked field, the skeletons have never needed god or jerusalem or everything to become clear in a great…

The Family Ate the Family Dog

the family ate the family dog appalachia is unconditional surrender replacement parts and arguments poverty and the truck shop passing through the bedroom window swallowed by the cardboard that has replaced what glass is left school bus in the morning frost of growling smoke pickled meats and vomit, dark corridors,…

his mouth is mute

his mouth is mute the fencing between us like the land of famished dust on the cellar stairs all winter long morning in the woods disguised in hoods the longitude of knowing how fractured grief is buried in the voiceless ground https://timbarrus.tumblr.com