in terminusyou say my timeline is infinitesimalwhen compared to your hourglassanatomy; a never ending cycle tickingtime away like a metronome, andagain gravity refuses to bend for me;i cannot see the fault lines in our skiesany longer. my crystal ball is cloudy,filled to the brink of destruction --your broken words and the obscuremisology that is to be our fate.
Apology PoemSometimes life is a battlefieldand conversation a mine zone,we put our foot down on bombsto stand up straightbut just turn to pieces.So in the face of explosion,I. Am. Sorry.
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can'twrite your way out of thisbody or out of this mind;you can pray like it's high-fashion,insist you're only burning yourself out(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)if only for murky mirrors &silver cicadas caughtin your ribcage, you'vegot a knack for decaying