Poetry is
A performance
In words

I feel in haiku
folded neatly in my mind
The rest is too much

I wish I could scrub my veins clean
of the tar and memories
I would scrape the sides clear
of everything you whispered in my ear
all lies, cliche
I hate feeling this way

It's been days out
in the desert
in the no-end
summer
when I wish
now was
then
and then was
always
keeping up with
later

if ignorance is bliss then call me ignorant if
reality is false then just call me