DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, July writes._.


prisoner am I
on the walls looking for who am I
in the shiver of the tea
the past steals of that sea
the invisible scratches on my back
the ones that scratch a roof to sleep painted black
all them those of the stacked shelves in handy
couldn't leave a page not a blank of the empty
does it rain in summer still?
because it's getting dusty on that exiled mountain hill
poems stale
the clock speaks in brail
blood trickles the nails
& the bitting has the audacity to fail
my toes to the feet demand a detach
not a new thing like a tree & its branch

                                                         ­                 ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, happy WednesdaY:)

wanting my right to be wrong
wanting my faith idolizing the strong
what is it with that await for the peace?
when I already could dig that peace in me
                                                                                      
                                                                                                ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, I-IV-'22:

on that table
four arms shook, double faking the illusion she stable
or is it a matter of strive to be crippled, disabled?
a hold on for the called dear life, inhibit the verb able?
yet life is not the content it holds in a cable
otherwise a single stumble would be fatal
& them feels embraced
are all the things that you shall face
on that table
struggling to bare the meaning it labels
but for the mind of mine
reasoning a reason is not a define
yet the feel in the moment it roots for it fills
& like a child & like a breath after her ****
despite papers scattered upon seals of nature
some lines stand up to nurture that wooden creature

                                                       ­                                 --------ravenfeels