Do you confide in your window glare
or is it your enemy?
You're breathing in numbers
and little decimals ***** the lungs

I want to say, as we drip we blossom
That the smoke will lift, and when it does, the sky will pale and remember all the terrible apparitions it enveloped

Do you believe in a beginning or is the middle enough for you?
I am clutching the thought of you
in a dozen mirrors at once

-c.j.