bleakd

i don't know.
waiting for my phone to halo,

melting chess pieces i am
the colour of the stain
over bricks of red, the ripening

willow or duet of flower
belonging to
arpeggio, i grant
she
 two
  or  
wished
 the
scent soda
on pop pop pop
tongue
 hessian
licking teeth
so gleam

out of photographs spread
even
i, lout

not to distract from pennies
on a bridge
  or the risk of tight
  pants

flung over streetlamp
 a chock full mouth
 
 gangbangs little words
 all words are little
  all feeling
  similar
  to   smallness

the chanting chorus
  with my heart
  with my delicate
   panacea

overboard
    not more exclaimed
    just whispered ocean
   my lilt to flower

i high, lout

  words feel
  out.


three thousand days of my life just rushed by
and i counted the morose numbers to their
end, there was strange
courts of me where i stayed and expected
more things said
though the tragedy was even
between things wished and remedies
squandered

she lifted her hands, not to focus on hands
but to cover her heart so i would
stop looking at it.

sadness.
oh.

bleakd.