my parents’ door
is a distortion

of time & space
where i will

forever find
myself imploding

probably wrong
troubled & twelve

stay awake &
say a wall of
words to keep
me off an old
familiar edge

echo evening
& a rerun day
remind me of

when the could
haves should
have caught &
crunched me

like pockets
of leaves long
to blow away

heavy sky no sun

leaves hang hungry impatient

for its golden face

why not a bottle
of gin for breakfast is a
p slippery slope

but i am feeling
it in all of my bones &
not bones this morning