i wanted to
live in hope

why do i try at all

smoke
out the window
curls
like nothing ever
so simple

i wish i could
follow

regression into month old sediment
where day old dreams resemble recall into
the arche-fossil of fever

hallucinations of wildflowers and flooding windpipes
yesterday
a fig
today
a bell jar

feeling of regressing an endless motion
round and round linoleum
carpet
muffled stomach black casing and
stall.

movement is nothing but
the making into absence
of what was.

and three hundred years is
a body without sunlight.

there's not much point being here
there's an expanse
there're people gathering outside
i can't see them
here there
the empty passages that go on and on and
i haven't moved in years
curled into myself
empty confine
shaking arrowroot
dried to dust.

i thought i was existence
not yet
not yet
never.

my skin is peeling away
soon there’ll be nothing left of me

long long ago
there was light dancing on the windowsill
in the dim quiet of
eyes closed to the sun

it’s a lot harder to think
now

sometimes i see my hands and i wonder who i am
trick of the sunlight
fizzing apart
at the blue red edge of my shadow

today i saw children playing outside
spinning their umbrellas
casting
light across
the parched earth
and it hurt

it’s the feeling of forgetting the air
beyond your room

i just wish i had the grace
of motion without intention

of sunlight
and absence

growth splits the ground
and blisters
everything it touches

you say on and on and on
the same condescension

hung on the tree
bone white
an empty frame
over your eyes

like you’re some holy martyr

i’d rather choke on my *****
than live your life