untitled

blackcurrant tea
and writer's block
a window lets the light in
the trees outside shape it
half forgotten...

Shape and Change Shape.

Your scab is in the shape of Africa.

Mine is ever changing in the light

shadows recast

seen for a moment

forgotten in bright

impressions never forgotten

artists marks on clay

my surface

wallpaper and flocking

distant, different

you could not have known all that i would carry from you

shapes and forms

thoughts and blushes

serious yet mistaken

i wanted your touch like from the movies

skin on skin

close

did i exist before you moved me?

move.

submit...

"The natural must submit to the spiritual..."- Chambers

good thing-record
lampshades and needlework
orange and reflection
thoughts aren't so toxic when bled onto blankness

you alone are worthy
be all my worth.

Again.

are you sad today also?
the day is late yet it looks undone
gray gray fading.
i'm pressed.
who would frame a weed?
eyes still swollen
anger. alternates. apathy.
blotchy cheeks- release to numbness.
with every song that falls upon my ears...
dissodence and failure
each brushstroke observed
each word, read and bound
each bite, taken and tasted
i am surrounded by all that i cannot do
cannot have
cannot be
beauty is fleeting
there is no place for me here.
is this familiar to you?

my world is composed of cannot