The snow stops traffic,

all I can do is stand still --


with my own shadow.

There's a little bit of hope
for everyone,
an enabling.
Like a record that keeps playing,
a snowball chance in a dream

In the Rain and Sun,
there's a late Autumn dash.
There's a pigeon of a smile,
breaking through cracked lips

There's a sigh of consternation,
well being like petrified wine,
that keeps us moving
Can you hear me now?

I had a habit of just sitting down on the white plastic floor and letting my thoughts consume me.

Words filled my head like a flock of bats, others burrowed under my skin like ticks.

Others bore deep into my bones, hurting every piece of fat and worming through every tendon and muscle and….

I felt my head hit the back wall, my eyes snapped open.

letting go is an art form,
untangling from the fears
and the what ifs -
i realize they do not just
vanish, and therein lies
the art.

I can't sleep
I can't now
If I were to rest
This day would end

I can't sleep
Not now
What would it mean
This bitter trend

So I walk
I must
With no hands
Fresh legs on quickened sands

I'm lost
Under lights
Of lamp post leaves
And paved dead ends

I think...
Too often I think
That it's all too much
I can't sleep
I walk
I pretend I'm ok
Hit my bed and restart the day

Today is pain
If today comes after yesterday.

Today is imperfection
If today comes before tomorrow.

What illusion of time are you stuck in?

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."