The urge to do nothing is overwhelming,
compelling.

I am motionless
I find myself halted.
Based upon a worry
a waiting
dominated by uncertainty.
​
I cannot go on
I stretch the mind
wander
wonder of antidotes
remedies delicious
in the knowledge
of their reduced life
span.
But not a cure.

Openings brighten despite me,
the ephemera of the street untouched,
lilting on its arbor
in its impetuous parade.

​(I think)
I should not allow myself this dysania
in the spaces between moments,
lapses into stillness unforeseen.

In the warm response of wire
I ask for forgiveness.
Trapped in my own gaze,
it’s all I have.
(the purity of sorrow)
The floor pushes me skyward,

I run my finger’s tip around the edge of the afternoon,
Hope to god it rings out in response.

Every day the sun sets the same
and night comes again
and we disappear into dreams until the morning,
to fight the monsters we imagined but couldn't see.

See hardly hedgerows
as wind gives voice to trees
and earth grips tight to boots
and rays see eye to eye
when oaks
steal sky
and
calm cries.

A beating heart
departs.

The sounds of weeping leaves.

I loathe to appear boring
but I am.

Mesmerising reflections
Sordid depths pried
for a sliver of truth.
Geometric shells
Fenestrative awakening
enrapt you non-somnambulant.

Suddenly
I find attraction no longer active.
It must be an affirmation
I’m unsure of what
Perhaps never to know.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

I am
Nothing more
Than a bag of bones.
My rib cage
Is a prison you rend
In twain, tear the mesh,
And sift fruitlessly through.
I am
An empty shell
You discarded;
All unraveled ends
And frayed edges.
I am
Orange peels
Carrying the essence
Of something sweet
As an echo of scent
And color-
-I will
Return to the earth
And start again.

you were always so inconsistent:
one moment, a rock to cling to -
the next, a crumbling cliff.
I sought a sturdy grip
but my fingers slipped all over you.
you never did have a stable foundation,
perhaps that is why you fell apart on me.