adieuwinter

The rippling furrowed eyebrow. It lives on in colored lashes that detonate across the skyline, we subsist in this small mug of disjointed structures filled to its brim then overturned across the land; we are only at the break of dawn. Here is one of the few things that never ceases to make me swallow a little more of the breeze, my stupefaction and only this reduces me, every morning to a reticence that envelops the puff as I exhale. Even while I lose sight of the moment, week, season, year decade, eon; I will never be met with an ending, because every shred of warmth I pass on will be, by another, shaped into sunsets and hopeful

Weeds dominate abandoned stairways clouds loom like awnings over the world. They are the things we cannot stand and refuse to endure; The things that scare us witless, that put the fear of God into us the side of life that is shaded a Stygian, pitch black… But we will be there to meet them, arms at hand at a horizon that stretches vertically; With clouds bursting on the left and the torrential downpour seeping through to the other side, where stars die in grotesque lopsided cosmic conflagrations, and we are born from their dust.

Your timing; meticulous. It broils away at the shreds of pretentious thought - The I wish the poems I wrote could incite tears not to thaw my cheeks but yours, The knowledge that, home alone, only your devices keep you from deepening the dent in the basement wall… You will yourself to just break something, if not with your fists then by drawing crosses over the assurances you gave to her, so they may be engulfed in your firestorm, a dereliction of your duties, a step over the line. You endorse that chain of consciousness that permits you to identify true happiness from status. Like the rest of us, you’d rather have a name a

We have everything we need and more. There is food to be discarded, to be left to perish, air conditioning to be left running while all the windows are open, acts of worship to be performed under a haphazard candlelight, and expletives to fit within every sentence, somehow. All the while, we become sexists, bigots, pedophiles, racist homophobics, proselytizing atheists, and we run around in the maze we have designed for ourselves. we are those same mice sacrificed in the name of cosmetics. We are internet trolls proclaiming ourselves poets, we are the animal feces in the street to which the government assigns the honor of being the work