if life game’s
to master,

may i always
play fair,
but-

ask me to fake nice
and stroll
lost

through
mazes

like a pale mouse
in car’s rays-

run down each
night?

i care,

but won’t be
there to

play fight through
day smiles

too bright
for

you.

can’t quite
breathe,

think it’s
the weeds,

not my notch in bark
of a dry
tree,

for nobody
to see

through the
leaves.

it’s a flood of
lighter
fluid,

it’s my shoebox
to put the
match
to

watch smoke
wave from
trees,

no
proof

in the ashes
of me.

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.