DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, how many journals do you go throughout the year?
he fades for real this time I'm losing sleep over myself not over him over his rhymes if I can prove his existence in my brain I can't it doesn't even exist even if it does still not the same his effigy is one for the flames to eat and for the bridge to burn on my poems his body lays a skeleton my feet passes in between thoroughly between the lines standing in the way dust coming back to follow me with no second thought or maybe just one one thought between me & myself how many more journals can I go through? through which I go out of throughout the year through which I go out of thought about cleaning up some fear of this dust from all over my poems so give me back my poems the winters that went away those are mine to keep to show them until the last page of it of it all and don't read them because then you'd have to call