~the wind feels the smallest birds It's got. —Primus St. John, "Biological Light", Gift of Tongues
The winds blow and gust written March 19th, 2021
Today the winds blow and gust bending but not breaking the boughs of the pine sending the last of the fall leaves swirling along labyrinth paths only the wind can see. We who can take shelter in constructs we have sweated and sacrificed for built to withstand the winds that blow so proud of ourselves, while the smallest bird without a straw to it's name lets go and rides the wind letting fate take it where it will.
i didn't realize you didn't care. i tried so hard to be there for you, but you blew me off like birthday candles. my favorite smell; next to pine trees, on a cold december morning, where i find myself missing you, again. it just turns out, that all the pretty words you said to me were lies and thats alright because ill just find myself lying in someone else's bed tonight.
See you and your rivered mind. Sought out in cyan. And cry for the drift in your eye. Made for. The groove. The tremolo in your pace. Rose hue to your face. And the sea to your shirt. The one you got in Olympia.
& Like the life previous. I sense them once more. Clawing at the inside of my brain. Turning. Everything. But the floor. They wine in cancerous heat upon my door. & Leave my wall into a galaxy of a corpse.
On fire in the front row. And her kiss had to throw me.