dawn's echo, tender or fierce,
takes grip of looser teeth. these
loser teeth, i won't eat anything
(again).
this cold, immutable. frost-
bushed lungs. you'll
figure it out before i do.

one by one, my motives
are culled,
sugar for some crueler
weather's onset. i just
wait, and in the end
lament all stillness. peace
takes time, but mine is
all wasted. as if i'd drink less,
though. you'll get sober and
i'll find another gutter.

for a moment, i
believed i'd turn out
okay. i just lost sleep
instead. dreamt of nothing.
you are what you dream.
wake up earlier every
day. turn. pass time inside
another headache.

this crestfall yields but
permanence. make it out
south. i could drown i could
drown i could drown i
could drown but my lungs
are already full of water.