Will Denslow


You’ve torn me into 1.2 trillion pieces and there is only so much of me to go around
I can see it in your eyes- the twinkle of desire, burning like embers of a fire that just refuse to go out
You want me. I know you do.
And I don’t care… I really don’t
One million sorries. One billion sorries. A trillion sorries the world will never know
I’m afraid this is the type of one-sided relationship that your parents warned you about
Who wouldn’t want my wrinkled lines and cocaine covered face?
Who wouldn’t want this cool, collected smile?
Who wouldn’t want to just hold me in their hand?
I know you would. I know it.
You feel the thirst? You mouth is parched and I am the water that can quench it
Drippity drop.
Down the water spout.
And now I’m gone.


Dirt-caked hands, on dirt-caked metal, on dirt-caked roads
Everything is covered in dirt
We’re covered in dirt
And when we’re not dirty we’re busy getting dirty
We sweat during the day, weep during the night, and yawn when the sun hasn’t quite made up its mind
It’s the hardship of this way of life that keeps us together
And it’s the love in the face of that hardship that keeps us from falling apart

We are the wild ones
Living such bare lives that are astonishingly full
Seeming to always be at our own precipice of meaning
Barely getting by
Barely sleeping by
Always feeling

We sleep in the back of once cherry-red pickup trucks now the shade of ripe mangos
We sleep with our eyes closed and our minds open
We sleep with vivid dreams, more vibrant than those with enough to buy them
We sleep with our dirt-caked hands, on dirt-caked metal, on dirt-caked roads

Inspired by Alejandro Cartagena's Carpoolers


Small towns make the small talk
Shooting fire arrows of nothingness that
Force me to escape in the dark of night
And hang on my dreams

I’ll let my dreams carry me to Jupiter, Mars, and Neptune
I’ll let them carry me to the heavens where God plays golf
I’ll let them carry me until I’m too heavy
Until I break the strings
And they fall down to crush every single bone

Because cracked mirrors and chairs are just
Salty tears and false hopes
That will haunt me forever

Nothing drinks can’t hide or handle
Behind cloths
Covered in blankets of lies that I wove myself
That make me feel warm and comfortable
In the worst of ways

Two decades foolish
I’ll guess I’ll just pretend that this life is a movie
And remind myself
Every movie has a happy ending

So I’ll run off to the big city
With my big dreams
And I’ll continue to make
The small talk

William Denslow grew up in Oxford, Connecticut to two loving parents. Will currently studies at Boston University where he hopes to attain his B.S. in the School of Management. Will is passionate about Super Smash Brothers™ and the financial industry.