hello slurs into
i miss you s...
                        ...o much
days anesthetic infused with sun
i'm so sick of being tired
i'm so tired of being sick
your touch scares me sometimes
with how quickly it comes
and outlines my hands
then: Fade away beneath the skin.
At night comes my witching hour
but sometimes midday
my happiness dies suddenly

and the boy drew a line
with his stubby hands,
feeling the roughness
of the pavement.

and it is his stubbornness,
when his name is called,
he doesn't look back
pretending not to hear.

with dirt on his hands
he watches the sparks slither
into smoke through his mouth
to taste something ominously sweet.

24 March 2017