autumn melts the skies
her oranges like
bright rouge,
her yellows a
half hidden sun.

the fires of a waking
world, blown by
the branches of the
wind,

forgotten, an
ending sweeter
than the last
fragments of day
that dream as they
fall, caught by the
torn breezes that
scatter the leaves
westward and skyward
like little ribbons hurrying
along a once summer path.

the constant droll
of my inner monologue
uninteruppted
is exhausting

"So I steal your shadow from the sheets
And it lays breathless beneath the
Stars with me."

Our backs hold stories
Not even the spine
On a book can handle

I used to make lists
REASONS TO LIVE
it was filled with names
reached the bottom
didn't worry about them

I'm making the list
can't find someone to hold
nothing comes to mind
worried for myself

never did I write my name


I don't know how to feel
fear
guilt

worried about my life
and loved ones

I don't know

It seems all meaningless


(Lists have caught on fire)