I feel her stir and stroke her hand.
My plan is to sedate her, gently bait her to sleep,
Just a while longer, to somewhere deep,
Where she can keep to her dreams and in those dreams recede.

The seams of this island
Are too fragile for her agile hands.
When she wakes, she shakes mountains,
And tangles the sky by the locks of her hair.
And sighs of rain—alert, at her thunderous applause—
May as well be daggers for the damage they cause.
We’d barely survived her, so I now lay beside her.
I wrap her in lullabies, so life may thrive despite her.

I feel her stir, and stroke her hand.
There was only ever this feeble plan.
The seas are calm; it’s barely dawn.
I hold my breath and she slumbers on.

she's a growing sunflower
what will you bring?
fire or water

Such a small word
Yet said right
Does the most damage

To the irresitable pleasures

i want to say
You have made me feel extant, alive even.
occasionally massive
like illuminations
burning heavy full of light
quick to disintegrate
vanish.
damage all.
damage me.
my sanctuary & my perdition
my liberator and my foe
all dreams & nightmares combined in Your utterances
Your misreckoning causes destruction
wherever i go
impossible to live with.
Always & wholly worthy of my demise.

I want answers and an explanation
But it’s not my place to pry
And pick at the scabs
While you’re healing

I would rather not.
You have shown your true colours-
The damage is done.

2:28 AM
3/5/20