I’ve written to you many times, through notepads and phone screens.
They transcend to you in another time,
when you can understand the words I never sent.

I shouted your name, and the sky carried it with the wind.
It flows, whisking leaves, unfolding at your doorstep.

I blew bubbles into puddles you stepped through, soaking you from within.
This is how you’ll feel me.

Distant echoes in shadows, quiet murmurs in stillness.
That’s when you’ll hear me—
even without these words.

Heart flickering, palpitations surge,
Wrist watches ticking like time bombs,
Watching TikToks, escaping without fathom,
Disappearing phantoms—
It was never enough.

Rough edges, clean cuts.
The heart aches, when it’s giving up.
I never chased the fox,
I felt too tough,
A roaring bear in a cage, I messed up.

To look behind and see another me,
Another us,
I was too tough, so I rotted with iron bars.
Chained up, thoughts swirling, beaten up,
I covered it up, I can’t make this up.

Despite these faults, set backs, and displacements.
I endure great lengths,
I sail coast to coast, emotion to feeling.
I am pink orange sunsets and lighting clouds.
I am dry and deserted.
I am lungs filled root to tree top.
Beneath my mansion, tiny rocks lodged perfectly.
I am a whisper before a disaster, a calming aftermath.

what does it all mean when your balancing on a high beam
nothing beneath your feet. A desilt empty street, a black crows moan in the distance, nothing is real in this instance. but I catch the last serotine spark, and find a humorous thought from a flickering light post, a melonic sound from the birds on the ground. I repeat, I repeat, what does it all mean?

I am a compass for bad news.
An elevator stuck.
A crack in the pavement.
Staggered noises that pace along broken light fixtures in deep hallways, abandoned house at dawn, Trickles and flickers.
  

What has happened is what’s happening.
Past tense, pre-existing conflict.

I can see it through my third eye, reflections from the sunny window.
Inner mothering, is guiding me through. Nature pushes and pulls, this is true. I console the wounds, all knowing keep warm in my arms. I'll rock you back and forth, until you give it a rest. Broken branches, and a fumbling cliff rock, I shall allow you to fall. Displacement wasn't ever at all, which ever you reach, there you shall remain until displaced again.