too bad
our definitions
of beauty define
everyone but
ourselves.

it's coming.
it's coming.
my mom always
says it's coming,
a revelation, an
epiphany, on a
fast moving train
a note on the end
of a bullet, I'm
waiting, I'm
outside waiting
for a prophecy
to be dropped
into my hands
with a how-to
where-to, when-to
i'm here, I'm outside
I'm outside, I'm here
I'm here.
is it coming
is it coming



is it coming?

i know i'm in deep
when thinking of you
feels like
thinking of me.

he wasn’t just an other ship that sank in my sea
he was the drought that left the whole thing empty

she is a flash
across the wheat-field
a tribal dance of light
across the grass, even
her shadow is thrown
across the sky.