“Recollected”

you could work with nights like this
where the memories are blurred
and the rain is underwhelming
and you miss midafternoon coffee.

there’s a dosage you remember
that dealt with nights like this,
but they were all long ago
dead in different / same problems,
now her face is blurred
her fingertips are waxy,
waned with all the words
I’ve stuttered through since.

“Encounter”

spines straight
curled, thumbed
hair scattered
unbrushed
following fingertip
walkings, wasting
time and waists
walked around
with closed eyes
broken chests
and black
ink, pooling
pressed together
palms, trying
failing, holding,
dropping

i lost words.

“Colour’s Burned”

It was decided to take colour
and cast it upward around behind
inside and out; to roll thoughts
through it, dyeing and dying
and changing and feeling new
feelings, all from colours burned
on the insides of eyelids
on the precipice of ignorance
on lovely words trapped within lips
on broken breaking scarred backs
and all forgotten things.

“Ash Names”

I sketched names in the ashes
of old words and older feelings,
tasting lives; how many had walked
streets like these, in days like these,
dancing in doorways to hide from rain,
or climbing over infinite mountains
in dreary seaside alleyways, when
they’d never dare to see the summit.
All ash, pre-built and pre-burnt,
with endings already written.

“And it Roars”

Midnight mental meanderings,
scribble-scorched papers,
bed sheets bloodied by ink and words
and thoughts and feelings, felt
and unfelt, uncertain assertions
tumbling through possible pathways
previously hidden –
sweet permissible nothingness,
welcome black, void-edge twirling
spinning, failing, flying nothing-anxieties
with broken backs, scars bursting
into being, pockmarks
marking palmprints with curling
spiraled roots searching for water,
love and life – life and love,
inkwells running dry of familiar
worlds and words and whereabouts,
nothingness, voids, oblivion, black,
sweetness bitter burning, understanding
scratches the front of your cortex,
potential enlightening, understanding,
it all bristles at your coming, but
fades when you reach for it,
fingertips and fog, a desert swallows
a drop of water, a bead of sweat,
a ball of insubstantial everything
growing in the centre of your forehead,
taking all the space of your thoughts
and none of it,
subsuming you, breathing you,
breaking you, walls of loss
and life and love and loss rising
infront, behind, before, afterwords,
intent is lost, it was never
found or had or loved or
lost or lived or loved, or loved
or loved