they were already straight,
i just never noticed my posture before.
kept crawling along like
i knew the words i had been saying
had truth behind the meanings
soft swept by roads
when my feet slide
stripping
ink meant for
politics and money
i savor the taste
of meat i cooked
pressed between
light and birds
and the music of morning
the vacant smell of cooked breakfast
the vacant feeling of love in general
meanwhile, my hands bright
with the prettiest blue veins.
i keep thinking of you,
eyes shut,
still before the wake.
free from the shapes i was
about to reate
with my mouth,
and with my hands.
the absence of my breathe,
bouncing left, right as i keep
my word
something i could never engineer.
—
i started placing new woods,
right at the boundaries
of my favorite memories.
exploring with my eyes wide,
and observing new friends
leaping
from flower to flower
to moss to and to puddle.
i’m trying dreaming
because reality
will not hit yet.
