how full i am
of spitkicked
good riddance
upon this eve
of a long year's
never ending

forever
readjusting
shrouds

lessons in riding
dreams white-knuckled
to even a bitter fruition

built from bullets of
best intentions &
flaunted dismantling

these sterile systems
so tight-spaced in off-white walled
days of tiny deaths

"Light breaks where no sun shines; / Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart / Push in their tides."

- Dylan Thomas

go home

to

oblivion

baseline apathy
o days of hope
& poor direction

our destined spheres
loose hums
of low vibration

this reach for rough
edges at a day's end

insomnia's
endless shuffle
& skip through all
the wrong songs

snowswathed & winter
cradles me in mountain's crook
gelid glade languor

these other sides
of our days our
internal schedules
of self-contained
rote sincerity

ritual responses
we unexpress
& mentally masticate

o bitter truths
kept & fermented
hope to turn sweet
but eventually bite

'til we swill in cyclic
nearly empty snifters
of outside selves

fog-full aspen groves
appear dead anticipate
shrouds of snow
their pillowhite promises

& my attention
scatters so many
marbles in crevassed
attic floorboards

these tongue-twisted
ears & all your best

between moments

we in those wee spaces
& long silent lines

talons rake
tousled reminders
& lives relived
through bedhead
bleak hours of
blank walls

oh but for all
this pretense of aimless ache
in birdhollow bones

slowsunk as days
trade titanium
for marrow & more
of me is made
than man will they

put a thousand ball
bearings where my
bronchii used to be

in ten years when
bionics build me
an empire of every
tin man's envy
& the servo says yes