a language in
the way your hands shake
and it’s back
gnawing through the soft flesh of your lips

just keep going
it was always too late
and it burns
because I need it to
the paradox
that makes you alive

fuck you Icarus
I bet I can make it higher

pressing Reset

take your syringe to my smile
the one I practiced
watch as deep red becomes pale
while the empty gratification
floods me
and quickly seeps out of the cracks

how the fuck
did I not notice
I was so far from shore?
you all look like ants
or parasites

so many

I still make up
these little stories sometimes
about a vague protagonist
followed by an unreliable narrator
stories full of the things
that help me fall asleep
quietly traveling
through places I’ve tried to forget

there’s never an ending
but I can give you
so many beginnings


how can I explain?

disfigure themselves
day by day
become warped
bent and broken
collapsing and imploding

it’s nice to meet you
I’m just not sure where to start
and there’s so little time
to spare on the past


you paused for a moment
looking to see how far you’d come
but the trail-markers turn to ash as you approach
and the ash follows the wind

your world is unfamiliar to you
every spring
and every fall
a quiet echo chamber

you’ve given up on solid ground
it never got you anywhere

at the will of chaos
you will move forward