the mind is
the creator

of miracles
and messes

I am in morass
moving slowly

my heart stutters

my skin feels
like dirt

ants crawling
all over it

feeling their
desperate days

living one line
one dream shared
and crushed

by one fateful step

life is a
dried rubber
band
stretched

If I was young
and beautiful

you would laugh

and nothing
would matter

or stutter
or dry out
or be stretched