hands fumble blindly, clutching onto everything they touch, desperately testing.
anything as long as it’s sharp.
the idea of the hourglass, too full of sand – why does it have to be so full? – a thought that has crashed through reality, shattering sanity.
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crying — that godawful sign of life
panic — occasional sign of love —
sparrows in their branches shrieking to each other
about the cat in the grass.
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as I lie in bed
awake at 3 am
I try to craft something beautiful
as to not waste this sadness
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Root minus one timesed by eight,
Over arccos minus one; integrate.
When the cloud boy fades to night, you won’t even notice.
He won’t go out in a thunderstorm, or a blizzard, but instead in the drizzle
of his mother’s tears; a puddle drowning the only post-it note he left
behind; his ink-heart words bleeding thick plumes of smoke.
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in hushed girlhood, i feared ghosts and falling —
now, i fly, dance, sing; i fear nothing but what waits in
the blackened backstage wing — your widegrinninglove,
those round clown cheeks, and it seems we meet again.
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Every day of my life
The bark of old oaks have whispered to me
From just beyond the garden fence
Somewhere out there
The paths and trees go on for miles
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My diamond is a belter of a girl,
Vivid and bright.
She shines bright.
I see my diamond in the vast, deep sky
And I wait for her to see me.
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