I imagined my
mind knowing
better
felt
my viscera quiver. the birds
get startled
into flight though
always round-trip.
it’s good to be home
alone not
that you would
if I had anything to do about
it but
we make
do.
life sucks
its thumb. you’re right
where
you’re meant to be. who’s
to say blankets
aren’t party dresses or that eyes
can only wet in one way.
gloveless in this eventide chill.
luckily we aren’t parting
thickets
for
interstices
for clarity.
I empathise with the trees that bend
out of light’s way at least till
rough
limbs creep up gently
against glass they refuse to crack.
dirty bedroom window remains
so. it treasures
the head that rested on it oil and
all pondering
the ease with which we
dance around naked intention.
show me it’s possible to
live and for quite a while
without flowering a new wound.
how lovely we are in our natural state.
taste of raw tongue on
my
tongue
waves
fragile at our feet. we stay
dipped long enough for
our digits to grow
old shrivel
without
fear. something once
felt too cruel to endure.
I would not have chosen to float
if given the
option.
but now
i’ll swim.
Some souls weld together in a flash of fire and
others melt slowly to pool over time. But I favor the souls that
are cool to the touch, who preserve my own constitution. I hold
onto those who keep me cold
Sometimes I wanna
stitch my lips together to excuse myself from spoken debates
since words slip off my finger tips so much more easily than they
do my tongue and in an argument my upper hand is always swallowed
by a faster mouth