time passing
a place to be
nowhere to go
so it seemed

twenty-five hours ago
didn't we break free

wet Mondays
called out
the grooves
that smiled
in between
Needlehead
and me

Stoicism rules impetuously and as resonating as a thunder clap, self-preservation long fallen through and this cocksure apathy has assured me I’m justified in standing idly by. Time pools around my ankles like melted crayons, each individual tainted to the same docile brown you’ll find reflected meager and muddy in my eyes. My perceptions are skewed, I’ve accepted it. Somewhat idiosyncratic but I’ve learned to love living in and among my restless thoughts and delusions and I might be lost without them after all. I still find myself surprised that people notice I exist but if they stopped could I continue to claim this as an existence? The Chicken or The Egg; I try not to give it too much thought but that’s laughable because despite the exhaustion weighing down my bones I can’t seem to satisfy the florescence permanently burning behind my eyes.

i am
     soft like a
     ***** sponge
     burning soapy water.
          the others were calling
                    i tried to reach you,
                   you told me i should.
                                          but you
                                              never
         ­                                     answered
                   ­                      so i left alone
                                      because i am
                                     soft
                                   and
                                 able.

today
      smells of
              cut grass
                 stuck to
             flesh
     in the heat of                                    
       summer                           you
                                             tasted
                                          so
                                     familiar
                                   and i
                                  thought
                            your glass
                       would shatter
                             if i laid
                            my hands
                               on you
                                    so
                                     i'll pretend
                                         you're a ghost
                                                instead          
                                                  and say
                                                     something like
                                                      my river
                                                       is on
                                                     fire