a shattered
deliverance, listening to rawness, a flea in the distance.
marble wishes,
major masks, we might not make it.
sheer pestilence,
mere screams, bathed in faith.
pieces of me,
dreams of me, leaving behind some spirit.
anywhere I appear,
a ghost is chasing, it luminates eyes, feelings, drool.
a minister of
trauma, a feeling so close, never to be received, with pictures in coffins.
those olden grays,
lethal forgiveness, so much to realize, it was comfortable in a place—left to
wilderness.
skin prisons, no
one escapes, designed to hate one another; it must be silver, where another is
gold, most claim color as brash.
nervous music,
scams to achieve, keenness required to survive.
watching it
unfold. knowing it’s angry. it slips in dialogue, unbeknownst to mouths.
sore spirit
language, painted feelings, peace is alive when playing piano.
so miscalculated,
so many suits, so happy, it feels like incautious.
