Poetry

A perfect death
for its almost nature

An effort towards
a injested jelly

Further a tearing white flash
and die just more

A dripping grin
toweling off

Spitting out
a barbwire breath
to begin again

On the every day…
…he created himself

On the every other day…
…he rested

And as he was done
was as he began

Another great mystery

Listening to his lesson
it lessened

See now!
the [...]

The smell of
rust flavored grass
sand not yet glass

A dew
through hair
moved by dubbed wind
matching my musk

Bare knees
absent mind
unkempt
thoughts
not kept

Two eyes
look back
miss each other
and keep going

We
are
All
Right.

I stick a match

stabbed

the middle of my eye

Squinting…
and wincing…
and winking…

I strike it
and watch it
burn down…

to the licking…
lapping…
wick…
of my self

It sputters
and splinters
and sizzles out

And without evidence
continues to do
something more