you awake, and your blood
itâs changed, wrong color,
which color matters not, just,
it isnât whatâs supposed to be,
the wound that wasnât there yesterday,
wonât/isn't being healed, somethings wrong
you donât need to admit the admission,
no supposition, the truth, it will out you
wearing the weariness in/on your eyes,
your forehead and anywhere it matters
even strangers double take, cross over the
street to avoid visiting your visage
sometimes it canât be helped, enormity
seems insufficient to redress overwhelming
gonna give up this wretched writing gig,
recording date & time futile & unimportant
the everything everywhere every day is
well past  the Nevery, but specificity is not
yeah gonna take a breather, a whole season,
put aside the reasons, no more deep cuts
when the portico spaces shout, sorry ,closed,
in spades, but you donât feel it or care
go off and cater to yourself, knowing in
advance, that work wonât advance you past
the point of return, who, youâre too wounded,
no forward, the past is clout clouded, rough
the word some is a totality, what you got,
is something else, & need another something
taking a break from fools and friends, at now,
ain't any difference, gonna lie down, yeah,
lie down or lie up
because
sometimes it helps
