i wait for you on my crumbling precipice and no, roaring waves heed not my call below slow, i retrace my steps away from the edge but oh the ledge, its comfort calls i wait for you, my dear, my love to part the crowded sea, to relieve me of the gray flag i hold that i wish to relinquish this is not what i want, but who i am might be incongruent with the life i imagined, golden sun and rain abhorrent
A raccoon, gray tail still intact, head askew across the highway Left to decompose on the county road, under spring’s thawing sun. A sadness swells my throat, a differing of points of view Where wild used to be, the raccoon mistakes concrete for dirt Headlights for predator eyes, glowing in the complete night Crushed undertire, underfoot, underpaw— Sweep his carcass off that once-grass gravel The fields of wildflowers and sideoats grama Given way to industrialism, to a streak of urbanization So far out in the sticks that even the animals do not know Where the country ends and the city now begins.
sometimes you wake up without really waking up. you cling to your blanket like it's the only resort in your black-tarred heart.
sometimes the bathdoor seems so far away that you need three hours to move one foot forward just to stop midway and feeling overwhelmed by how the floor presses against your naked feet.
sometimes all you could manage was breathing and maybe making some green tea in the kitchen and that's actually all there is, a mundane accomplishment considered normal by healthy-minded folks.
sometimes you feel nothingness gnawing and chewing your inner self, since there is actually nothing left than a few bits and pieces of your former, cherish self. and you actually cry, for there is nothing to hold on to.
sometimes it feels like not living could be the only way out but actually, quite frankly you will always find a way out of feeling insignificant. because i did. as mundane as it might sound.