Sink or swim.
A narcissistic value.
You cannot touch them, for they simply float.
But I?
I do nothing at all.
I let the waves pull me under, serene and cold.
The lights from bright blues to deep, dark, ultramarine weight.
My chest and lungs scream and burn,
The heavy, pulsing weight makes my skull explode…
Until I let my air
Burst
And bloom
From my body.
I’m drowning but I cannot express how this experience
Was...
Perfect!
I was okay…
Until I was gone.
Blood gushing from the slit in my throat.
Choking.
Broken.
Gone.

a low flying crow
eyed pumpkin seeds lying
in Helen's backyard

tiny black ants scurried around
building high mounds out of dirt
before the heavy rains fell down
this last Thursday eve

Duskland
Day's portending glow
divided by the room we're in
                           verted, lit from below
our shadows cast on ceilings loom
disfigured by the self-consuming gloom
of doom we ourselves evoked
in youth
Tooth for a tooth,
In short: revenge: the word we never spoke
As the hammer fell on his existence
Bludgeoning his dull, swollen resistance
Toward a ****** stillness
That, we hoped, would equal calm
But instead has led us
to the
Duskland