the stains will not come out.
though
i have started to like the way
they've begun to fade into the fabric
almost indistinguishable from cloth
as if they were not stains at all

another draft
now sits in purgatory
along with the other
unfinished
uncoiled
undeserving
simply existing where
patience wore thin
and hope
is unwritten

When we dream
we take down a book
from the shelf
of ourself

i am not faster than tomorrow
one cannot outrun the calendar
the stopwatch never ceases
hands of time are always at work
once i grasp this certainty
i will move on

once again the words run out
i sit and wait for their return

I've been having nightmares
Dreams that shake me out of sleep
Moonlit hours
Now comprised of open eyes
I lie and fight the bedsheets
Later and later my eyes shut
Until late becomes early
Birds chatter as my head hits the pillow
Still there is no divorce
It seems as though
Sunrise brings no solace

once again i've tied my hands
unable to unbind
sickness twists and tangles
imprisoned by my mind
bound by mistakes echoed
held by my own will
captive and the captor