there’s nothing
to unpack

cause next
layer’s

just as
thick,

yet
softer,
somehow..

there’s still much
hot blush

in wild blood
rushing..

through us
now.

we FaceTime,
it crashes

i call back to
static,

it’s still progress,

perched on
finger
tips-

in tears,

you appear in
real time,

but not
here.

open is the heart
that feels

all it flushes
through
pipes

to
restart,

despite build up
on gears

of its slow
ticking
parts.

flutes like
water,

dripping from fresh
fruit in warm
somber
blues,

my feet off
a cliff..

barely leave
ripples,

in moments so
deep and
dilute-

the splash
sounds
like

wet flute.

forever webbed
in judgment

a spider turns
from fly
trying

wiggling
wings loose..

to swoop in and
dry her
eyes.

listen, if you’re
willing..

i’ve a story no soul
beyond my
echo

knows,

disappointed,
you find
it

boring-

i never claimed
it wasn’t
so.

by time the
secret

gets back
to me,

it’s become three
and the
feds
are

swarming,
but

they’ve got nothin’
on me
but..

empty
warnings.

take the wheel
dear, don’t
swerve,

a tear drips
down

steel,

like it’s nobody’s
business, but
everybody
feels
it,

take a turn
dear,

like around the
bend’s

nothing to
fear.