No one is innocent,
save for the child,
resplendent,
laughing at the sea.

Throw your bones in the garden
and redden as rain raises a finger,
calcium white,

it is sharp and cold
on this day of recollection,
you’re striding through the garden

plucking corpses.
Place the cradle on the table,
the flowers need no water.

Forever their bodies limp,
yet quivering in you a survival
that mocks your spoiled soul.

What’s done is done.
The plight of realization
has halted the burgeoning summer.

Years fuse to responsibility,
and you do not shine,
but collapse.

I used to believe
that I would
never
be able to
move on...

But whenever I woke up
this morning,

I didn't even
think about
**you.

My body feels like light air
in a reality where I don't feel completely there
Neither comfortable or out of place
I'm simply wandering through this space
My starry eyes are fixated on time
my colorful thoughts are worded in rhymes

I have recluded deep inside my mind

here's how it happens
the morning after
you reach into the drawer
where the your t-shirts live
to find it austere
you'll shrug because
you're still drunk
& you can't remember
when last it was
that you had something wet
or how long it's been
since you made the floorboards blush
or why the carpet is upset
who wouldn't be
the contents to the upended ashtray
strewn around the apartment
resemble the aftermath
of the smallest war
to ever take place in norfolk
some midnight thief
must've made off with the lighter
because it isn't in
any of your favorite spots
maybe you chucked it
along with a hundred other things
that make noise when they land
in the neighbors yard
you won't remember putting
the refrigerator's belongings
in the bathtub
or scrawling a buzzard
on the bedroom door
but then again who would
you'll pretend it's spring again
before putting on your winter coat
to go out front with a cigarette
in your mouth
you'll hope for a passing stranger
to *** a light from
or drag yourself to the corner
with couch cushion change
to buy a new lighter
and on your way
you won't bother looking back
this is just another day
on eggshells for no reason
another november
choking on birthday candles
on your way home
you step over beer cans
the kind you fell in love with
and wonder who
had the last laugh last night
or if anyone said a word at all
it might've been another
moment of clarity
it might have been some idiot savant
any adjective that feels like home
anything that keeps you thirsty