those words i say
loud enough to convince myself
that things will be ok
are breathless hollow echoes
that fall heavily to the floor
like the shed skin of a vibrant life

still i hold them close
like tattered remnants of love letters
that i fold into a lifeless heart
hoping it will spring to brilliant life
and resuscitate my passions
igniting a dream now grown dull

but like the ruins of affluent times
the hopeful words i speak
are simply overtaken and swallowed
by the depth of reality’s indifference
and so my fatigued voice falls silent
and my paper heart crumbles into dust

steer then forward
moons slide by
hustling days on
talking go
unchanging I—
say, not really.
an uncovered death
slowly stirring
I await, await
the blooming, as
sounds of bees
fade and fly
however patient
gold-licked lakes my skins,
sweet grief is my food
dusk-dipped despair
my bed
steer then onwards—
laced my sleep
with seas' gentle excitements