particles never stay in the same place.
you were a tin can but now you're a horse, running alone
tethered maybe to a burned up stable
but mostly a creature of fire, muscle, sweet speed sweat that
takes pause only to graze from the land.

you are a machine.
a machine that runs.
a running machine.

and you tried to change, didn't you?
saw a California sunset in a psychedelic silhouette,
grew legs and became a beast of the land.

there was a great plain with mountain frame but
your legs. your eyes. your tail your flies by god
if I could tame.

very few could love you but those that do,
will dehydrate, expire, at the mirage that rises
and fades with you from view.


you are a horse running alone and my
body aches to be the stream you drink from, to be the
sunset that gives you solace, if
ever you require some.


you are different now and I am the same shape,
dressed even as I was the day you left.

I want your love for me
to be the ruined running ground
beneath sweat soaked feet:
stable, and strong
then impermanent, and weak.