early morning heavy bag with nothing else but hopeful
they said theyd be there soon
you say youll be there later
catan at engineering noon
was bittersweet flavored

water in the kettle
barely touched the mech on the table
last day tears in the after shelter mental
i was in the ceramics studio when you arrived when it all came together
rivers of slip and clay and dip and dip and swing

keeping printing lately squinting
we helped to bring the paper
you disappeared concerning feared
but just for shoes in your backseat

sparkled nails on the church's floor
behind the curtain essay typin
ping pong flyin wild story improv timin
next to those shoes scrollin and the topic was ace
so i dont know if its my place
but
as we left the lack of open doors was odd/
so then came back to the front lawn of god to give you a plastic bag of support
keepin rapport in some way of some sort
gracious hospitality that it wasnt raining
though when we were waiting there were trains and there was dogs/
but soon hes gone and hugged and loved

and now im in the front seat;
and then im in the drivers.

back window fogged, behind the wheel with you beside me reel and keel my necks still sore two days later just like my brain that needs a stapler
because i couldnt look at you
im scared of being fake but then/
music's meant to sing
i went to bed at 1 am
i dont regret a thing

☆
inventory slots pockets brought
water savory lot ticket caught
☆
lights bring colors bring joy bring finicky listening luster leaping in custard
☆
pen going dont stop
time ticking watch the clock
rhymes and rhythm for the rock
shop this walk it dont just lock it
stop
☆

☆
crispy gold nugget in a wendys bag
drive thru love with an s class grade
☆
poetry plum picking purpley sky
pernicious persnickity perplexing but why
perilous prudent pervasive and high
plentiful panicking poetry pie
☆

its so expensive just to stay alive
i mean imagine how it costs to thrive
experience a life of mint and time
like written rhyme but if it werent the rind of strife
the pith the side the bite
ill tell you what it costs to keep your life

a tax of mine is mind and spine
physically substantial
and soon to be a wound or three
it will become
critically financial
incredibly intentionally extensively pedantial
so thoroughly impossible to handle
quite the radical tangential that you could manage to survive this ******* battle

and yet how crucially essential is a victory to saddle that it is your very life within the throttling hands of rattled gods and brands
bottled shot and ran
right on down your throat
and yet they gloat and boast a new disposable feel-good care-for-you quote
but dont misunderstand they do not give a **** youre broke
broke of time and full of pain
i mourn the future

i dread the chest i dread the suture
the uncertainty will have no name
with nothing for the hurting to be tamed
nor a place to shove your blame

this is the pith the side the bite
this is the cost to keep your life

I AM BREATHING.
THE ATMOSPHERE HAS TURNED TO PINS AND NEEDLES
IT HAS TURNED TO ASPHALT TAR
THE AIR IS FULL OF DISTANCE AND REGRET
BUT I AM BREATHING YET
THE OXYGEN HAS TEETH AND IT IS SCREAMING
BUT I AM BREATHING
I AM BREATHING.

awoken missed calls
to another eight hour stand
body pain and mental strain
say it's needed and
call this really living

call it present call it future
call it time forever further

A LIFE OF LINES upon a page upon a chest would you believe it yet. WOULD YOU SEE a crime to vandalize or would it be a pleasure to your eyes. A WORK OF ART upon this skin but would it do the trick within. AN EMPTY BOOK full of boxes full of checks though the emptier it gets. A SKULL THATS SPLITTING full of gritting anger and emotion. COULD IT HEAL or might it just rot the soul increase ten fold fester and congeal. WOULD YOU FEEL a flame beneath your palm or would it burn not noticing at all beacause doesnt seem youre reacting as youre getting mauled. MAYBE ITS that spot within your chest between the things they just cannot forget. THAT SPOT WHERE THERES an open wound from which your heart falls out each moon and to the ground it hits the stone and there it sits til you atone for deeds that maybe have occurred though the pain is to insure. BUT DO YOU THINK the tear will ever close. DO YOU THINK youll ever add two more. COULD YOU EVER have three lines upon your chest all neatly in a row. AND IF YOU DID the body still could rid the heart each time returned to core and blood inside your head coagulated red with palms that have been burned - THEN WHAT WOULD IT BE FOR.