we slide through times
of nothing really
they’re delicate reminders –
i grew up learning cycles
with outlines hard to break

we vanish further –
unsurprising –
intentions fading footnotes
without the strength to leap
we’re shapeless
intermissions

the quiet ones for worse
caressed yet empty-handed
and waiting
with no end in sight

shout
a pointless warning
as if
time could contract
and i return
to hear me
shout
          a pointless warning
          as if
          time could contract
          and i return
          to hear me
          shout
                    a pointless warning
                    as if
                    time could contract
                    and i return
                    to hear me
                    shout
                              a pointless warning
                              as if
                              time could contract
                              and i return
                              to hear me
                              shout
                          ­              a pointless warning
                                        as if
                                        time could contract
                                        and i return
                                        to hear me
                                        shout
                ­                                  a pointless warning
                                                  as if
                                                  time could contract
                                                  and i return
                                                  to hear me
                                                  shout
      ­                                                      a pointless warning
                                                         ­   as if
                                                            ti­me could contract
                                                        ­    and i return
                                                          ­  to hear me
                                                            sh­out
                                                             ­         a pointless warning
                                                         ­             as if
                                                              ­        time could contract
                                                        ­              and i return
                                                          ­            to hear me
                                                              ­        shout

same window
still
a gaze beyond
the windowsill
it could have been
it could have

seeps through
my time
like rain
i cling to pain
it knows me well
it knows me

what stays
inside a drop
a dream on top
a shiver
but nothing else
but nothing

what light can never capture,
i carefully selected.

what kindness never lingered
made seconds harsher
than intended.

you made a home
with open windows

inside my weary heart

its furniture in cobwebs now
and empty frames in dust

i wonder if i'll learn to follow

while filling them with smiles
that in the darkness
i invented.

i've seen
these walls
i've felt i've known
no change
and now here
barely breathing
i close my eyes
but seconds
later
the world remains the same

i lie
sedated
as i learn:
my fear
has held me back
in one way
and another

desires –
they are packed like sardines

a year
of wonder
aptly wasted;
not one
but two
abandoned dreams;
directions
bent half-
heartedly;
responses
mass-
produced

;
yet
our debt
exceeds them
all