i keep getting the numbers wrong
five steps in
ten steps back
is cracking at the weight of expectations
maybe i should let this run its course
deeper than dolphin water
i am breaking an entering
shielded gray and you don’t have the please of perhaps.
do you know what i’ve sacrificed to be here?
but maybe it’s nothing
maybe you’re history in the making
and i should let you
write yourself out
while i write myself in
defeated and weary
love means nothing but now after all.
i feel you
like tiny backpacks
flowers once hit in the suicide lane
maybe we’re passers by
watching them work around us
purposeful with dissatisfaction
unable to wish it any better
but doing it anyways.
if you think you knew me before
you should see me now
all upper crust
like flowers on any apron
reminding anthologies the grass is greener somewhere
i feel your absence like picks on my feet
moons half beet but still trying
hoping for the next time they can be full.
how are the trees there?
is the oxygen
a better breath?
or are you drowning
heavy in the foliage.
there be fire alarms blazing
flies and fumes drowning the young
asleep in the willows
dreaming with sirens
they scream at the youth
to wake up
a friendly inhibition of memory
something that may not be so cruel, so crass
but twice is enough
to shake any cow from it’s leather.
we’re hoping for branches
aching for mistakes
sweating liquor and snoring inebriation
i sleep with monsters.
sweet things aren’t just sweet things
another one is, yes, one more
little morning affections keep me
awake at night
and my legs hurt
someone, after this much walking
will want to whisper something sweet too.
you’ll sacrifice an entire eyelash
a whole world and your wish
only for my happiness.
nothing could touch me more
the spider’s web can catch the moonlight
but cannot keep it.
if you insist on being as simple as a fox
i will insist on being as complicated as one too.
perhaps i called your name so loudly
trying to shout my panicked pulse.
it would be an injustice
of spring to blame the pollen for the rain
just like some of the largest
most beautiful flowers smell like rotting corpses.
crowds father ofter decades just to see Death in bloom.
Belladona is commonly inwon amongst herbalists and toxicologists alike as on of the most poisonous plants on this Earth.
but i have loved you from the moment you held my hand and called me friend.
boxes, bags and and an entire half a year’s reading list later
i know your place amongst the living doesn’t belong with the shadows we’ve sown onto our buttons.
there comes a time to look both ways and cross the street
and you’re crossing out your Petter Pan life
for the land of milk-honey thyme.
i will be there
in every forest walk
in every tea sip
i will be there when fox fire lights the wondering eyes
and i will be there when wolves threaten to claw out our skin
because they do
and they will.
just like we re-build our sensibilities after
each beasteal impulse
this is for you.
there’s a heaviness
behind our eyes