Beyond all collective measure, flawed.
I see life moving like paper bags in the rain.
I stand and ask it to move.
I stand, head cocked and confused with eyes fixed “why here?”.
Tones in syllables that mount a horse of how and why its always been.
Riding ghosts like mares, in linen beds shaped like mouths.
I forgot you here.
clutching flesh that wilted into question marks and hesitation wounds.
I’m watching everything smoke hard into deliberate mouths.
Bleeding upon every minute that exists within these walls.