When you say her name,
            I think I feel a sound.

A sad girl-
             years of age & all that Blow.

Dancing in circles & long ,
         f   l   o   w  i   n  g
cliches.

But you tell me you don't give power to
       slight idiosyncrasies.

"I didn't go that way."

Yet
       all those years it was kept alive
                      with that Brown stuff.

You know, darling,
                  you can always go deeper into the matter.

Sending generic Buddhist quotes and preachy Karma
                 at 3 AM.

You rustle in our bed.
                            

                                             I feel so kind.


Giving different names for the same disorder.


In the end,

she's nothing but a
                    
                                            Fawn.

She's picking daisies now
            and putting them in her hair.

Surrounded by fantastic neon green trees.

            And this is where she dwells.

           And this is where she cries.

He brings her to the edge, covered in white- maybe just ashen

with blood-stained sheets
                        
                        she wears over her face.

              She's everywhere and nowhere at all.

All day
         she dreams about fireflies and catches them
and swallows them down.



                            And then there is no more light.

These taciturn days,
       that's how they move
Like the arm that dances around the margins
     of my crime.

I bet if you climbed on top,
          you couldn't penetrate deep enough.
      
          It's that momentary feeling of capture

                     You're the injured rabbit.

You
          would make them
                           want you

Only one touch.

{When you **** the words out of me,
              my hair covers you}
                                     & your
cataleptic eyes lay upon
               your first & last meal.

It's how I've always known it.

I mean,
          who would wake up
                       on a Thursday morning,
Sunshine beaming thru;

unraveling in the afterglow of the
                
                                Fall?