Saturday, May 24

my catastrophic soul

pondering my anti-existence
i; in the sharp stab of what i foretold
and the deepening fault of Mine, this inkling
of a total universe.

i'd like only to be as wise
as the ocean. i'm so exact
to the temperament of water
i find it in my eyes.

i pretend i am
my own lover: weep, baby,
unfold all those unkind thoughts
but gently now,
i know your fragile, too.

behind the windsheild i sit in the passengers seat and navigate.

click here to speak to me.

cats to my fish