the cost of fabricating dreams (&attempted sleep at three)
anxiety, prone insomniacs, huddle& whimper
at the latter-rungs of the nocturnal, wide-eyed ones
do you suffocate, from self-woven cocoons, this summer

we share the fruit amongst our, selves, bleeding bite
after

palms, folded& extended, good intentions
halved

quarantine paled spirits chilled from incessant rain
a drawn-out chalk line of mental burials murals
this salt pillar collapses with a hand extended
the flood will carry our bodies, over this chasm, beyond

i.
love enforcement
will pluck my tongue out
if i stutter
on rose colored verses

ii.
hands cuffed
for a misspelled text message
there's a small rebel requiring
lobotomical intervention

iii.
operation success
a manifesto etched
on my full, glowing heart
still as a stone

sandwiched in your laughs,
sunlight of a thousand crisp mornings,
not one bit contaminated by the night

you've grown soft as you pick
out your words, dusting off the edges
marshmallow bite sized

soft fists, air punches, trimming down
your claws, diving down into safe
snowy white pages, and now

i can no longer explain to you
how my pain is not your pain
and how your pain is not mine

care to listen, all my
pauses and blank spaces are intended
my reluctance habitual

shield the moon from my thoughts

horizon shrouded in dim light
will stars fall in these reflective eyes
rain beaten hydrangea, summer limes

we left our crosswords unfinished
new stitches on patchwork quilt skins
it is on dead earth we stand before
any buttons are pressed

out of sight then out of
conceptualization, the rite of
forgetting, a slow, annual, funeral
they disappear in the dark corners

no one would, remember, not unless
we seal pain under our wounds
like what amber does to time

we dwindle in our respective paths
no one dares to ask
of the outcome

hush-hush, silent-oathed
diminishment
cut and let drip

your dark scarlet secret
over the circle, ten-fold
winding up grief like a corkscrew

the flowers bloom and fall
discarded heads, lopped off
cartwheeling away to the undergrowth

souls cannot be sold, for souls
were never in our free possession
the springtime that died within you,

tell me, identify, the direction
of the noose and the siren
where the moon collapses

my heart is filled with love
the cavity on the right hand side
of my chest is filled with love
i hold my heart in my hands
it glistens
twitching in enveloped air

this here is my heart
my heart it is here

the crown of suffering, if one
human being can bear it, then it is
fit
for everyone

the darkness we keep at bay
rocking, roaring waves of equity
we burnt them into ash

whether to rise up in a puff,
to be used and attack your enemy
or to be spread thinly. leveled
with with the gentle touch of fingers
to identify blood vessels and the cracks
where dust held in closed fists turned into fear