Saturday, January 12, 2019

The cephalopod pots

I miss your spirit and I search for it in every bottle. 
I bioluminescence my visions onto its empty walls. 
echoing beacons out to sea,
Waiting for you to respond.

Thursday, January 10, 2019

Surprise me

I wish this: 
because I know how real it feels when I lose everything and all the emptiness is sucked away into this breath that we breathe together right now at the end of this.

Icy cold tiny marrow, smoking, waiting for the poor man's Carriage to arrive.
the padding of the butt between the chattering teeth uncontrollable just like I predestined fate to be.
I wish you were here with us. Instead I pawned your loneliness and why I asked why.
I wander through the shiny Graves,
through the morning light, and back again
and again
and again
and again
and again.
Watching my fingerprints disappear before my eyes.