Always fighting,
From the inside,
Breaking the walls,
Of his former pride,

The scattered remains,
Washed by the rain,
Fading all hope,
Of easing his pain,

Searching the puddles,
Through autummal leaves,
Scratching the floor,
For broken beliefs,

Brushing the grain,
From trembling hand,
Mixed with dirt,
And goldless sand,

He crawls away..

Leaving his dignity,
And all that he gained,
In the gutterless hole,
For a moment of fame.

raptures of months + delicate
cloth wrappings, glancing at a
pattern lit by soft plastic blinds
letting the light in, like smoke
through gutterless roof rainfall

I’m drinking & it’s daylight dew;
as permanent as inked paper,
a stained-glass rorschach:
standing for intensity,
interpreted as love,
absolved as growth

we’ve been here before, you,
the me i see when alone, and
i, the we i feel when you lay bare,
and we will be here again, oh luck.