like hail on a
holiday
chase me beneath
covers
where no one knows
i melt like
snow
on tongues of
the stale,
glass eyed
and upward staring,
from the depths
of bed,
in a room with
no ceiling.
let’s meet out
front,
we’ll watch the
bus stop..
just to see who
gets off,
then we’ll take bets on where
they’re headed next,
based on which way
they walk.
it was music for
reflection
on a stroll back
home
that lead me to
the trees,
i swear they arched
a little closer
to make sure i was
breathing,
at once, i felt both
held and seen
standing lone and barefoot
in the street.
an aged wood bench
painted
white,
right beside
a no trespassing sign,
can still spot graffiti
lines,
though can’t quite make out
what they read,
behold youth bursting
to be free.
i’m feeding glass to
time machines..
that belch out change
like copper
rain,
tripped up by wires
were never
seen,
eyes scraped raw,
teeth tinted
green.
all hours and
money..
spent
on emptiness,
were lessons well
worth the
cost..
and any sleep
i’ve lost.
pet’s eyes roam
the room,
a clock arm
doesn’t
rest,
panic beads
upon my
neck,
i trace notches
in the door
frame..
fearful you’ve forgotten
your way home
again.
you stopped
taking
calls,
i learned how
to sing,
but no one hears
a thing
with red eclipsing
eyes
from flames
nobody
sees.
open to what’s
next,
loving like a
child,
life’s not as you
warned,
i recall feelings..
not facts that drag
me back
into questioning
intentions.
fractured from the
pressure,
i’ve wanted it
too much,
time with you
was the good dream,
you knew just when
to leave
but taught me to
stop running.
hands in the garden 
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