whocares
jammed between a staff and strung out
unpressed piano pedals await
to make an audible sense
of how ive been measured
stumbling over my own feet in the morning
exhaling someone elses stale liquor breath
i realize the emptiness emanates
from my own
dissatisfaction with the impossibility of Fate.
i clutch at strangers hands like miracles
I hear the trains nightly
sobbing something familiar
i had gotten used to them
after ten years
but now the railroad's all i dream about
it's 6 am
it's saturday
i haven't slept because i've been too empty to sleep
i haven't slept because you showed up
willing
perhaps
to help me fill myself
discarded, i saw one pearl
sitting beside the sidewalk
so many had walked down
never caring about the beauty
hidden beneath forgotten dirt
why flit your eyes
at idealistic unrealities
why flirt with impossible,
improbable, visions
they're not wonderful.
they're lies.
I'll be waiting for you
at a silver booth
I'll wear a mask of mahogany
painted with shapes and forms
of wingless birds
and bones.
LOLOLOLLL i'm dumb
hanging by the last
of unoiled remains,
of rusted inquiries
and dust-ridden brains,
thoughts lay petrified.
painted a shade of dulling off-white
the slats that lead up
into stencil-cut pricks
pose an insignificant threat
to the possibilities of glimpses
and touches
and conversations
not held back by rusting chains.
my collar could just as easily be made of wind.
the stake that grounds me
an annoying plastic
dyed blue with scorn
can be melted only
by the embers of my own constraints.
i'll blame the fence
because i'm starting to hate you.
like pricks in my iris
but i shrug
and back they roll.
they'll force themselves out
when i'm left alone.
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writing since 2011 · 54 entries · 53 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means kalena showed up.
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the words kalena reaches for
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