You looked through me,  
and in that moment, nothing else mattered.  
You stood there, looking,  
as if there was something only you could see,  
something hidden even from me.

The way you smiled, the way I laughed  
it felt like a story we shared,  
like a hand reaching out in the dark.  
I thought maybe, just maybe,  
there was something there.

But now, only silence answers,  
days pass, and there’s nothing from you.  
Did I really feel something that night,  
or was it just the need to believe,  
to hold onto the warmth of your arms,  
to imagine your eyes told a story  
that was only ever mine?

As the petals spread
a sweet aroma released
temporarily

Have you ever had a recurring nightmare?

Every time I appear in a forest
And walk through the door
I know I will not be able to come back out from
I don't want to go in
But I'm not in control
It's a dream
So it happens
And I have to face my doom

Nightmares can be so realistic
I believe
They can also be real

Is that what life is?
Just a really
Really
Realistic nightmare?
We'll never know
And that's the problem with such dreams
We can hope only
That our suffering will end soon

Hiding in my own gaze,
Dreading to meet yours.
Wondering what hurts more,
Hiding, or being Found?

Another autumn peels forth from the walls, leaving
apple-red strewn over the birdhouse on the front lawn.
I think how you saw this place and said we’d be lucky to live here.

My love, you're never wrong. The porch ceiling shimmers my smoke.
Still, that cough in my spine's getting deeper. Sally said this afternoon: maybe something’s fighting to come out, or be wiped away.

My spliced mind's the concrete that old seed’s entombed with.
My roots grew deep in that road he stuck his knife into,
the one they paved solid and covered thick with white pickets.

If I could go back I would leave a time capsule on that hill
with all our sticks and rocks, in our pinestraw nest in the bushes.
I’d leave something for us I still can’t name.

*

There’s permission in the wind, Sally says: Still, still, to change.
The migrating flock in the sky finds its symmetry as soon as I sense it.

Wait — there was a clarity that day in Virginia before,
when the mountain sang back each leafblown psalm.

Grey solemns stretched their patient palms for miles.
My brother stuck his tongue out, and he giggled like a child.

People are so strange

I was messaging one person on here
About some struggles that we both face
It was a pleasant, polite conversation
Very normal if you ask me

He asked me questions
And I answered and asks ones back
Normally

The thing that was weird
Was that when I said my age
(Honestly)
And he saw I was a child
He just said
"Bye bye"

That's okay with me
I don't talk to people who don't want to talk to me
I just didn't know children and adults couldn't have conversations
Oh well
Thanks for educating me

i went to a temple
and i fell sick right on the hatchway

god doesn't exist
i say out loud in the temple
with monks listening

my hands grew cold
my chest was on fire
nose as stuffed as a freshly rolled cigar
eyes watery

if god exists why doesn't he help me
he must not exist
i ponder

the next day
i wake up warm and nice
with a blanket
given to me by a stranger
a monk
a believer
a human
a god?

Sitting on my cozy chair
With my blanket
And on top it it
My cat

It's the first time
I've ever used the fireplace
Since we moved to this house
It's wonderful
I wish to have a fire every night

If only
My mind would be as calm as the fire
And as bright