sometimes
mistakes are forever
and regret is the undercoat
that primes your life

perhaps foolishly
it might seem calmer
(karma)
on the surface
to forget the original dream
than to colour it over with
shades of new intention
when all you want to do
is bleed the red out of your eyes
until the copper rusts your face
and runs finally clear;
a dried salty ash,
the only pock-marked
stain on your ****** canvas

the minimalist collector
your highest bidder

That feeling in the pit of my stomach,
It has never been this real,
I think it's known by the name,
*Guilt.