my most avoidant one yet, or; the poem in which i talk about everything while mentioning nothing.
feel the pavement hit my skull, sandpaper texture wearing down the epidermis, wear me down until i can't think.
flesh rots and ferments, burning the earth, scorching the soil. let something beautiful come of it, i said. instead, one more thing is destroyed - it is deserved.
red hot iron, the smell of oranges burning in the air. red hot iron, grit the teeth and bear it.
sticky red plum juice under the fingers, under the feet. toes curl, not a word is spoken. rows upon rows, nothing is planted but everything is reaped. buttons upon buttons to do up, to undo, day after day after day.
at the nape of the neck - a dissection. scalpel so sharp it cuts before you feel it, becomes the subject of daydreams where a lover should be. paper thin wills, dissolve in an afternoon.
heart beats, river stones polished by the stream. ebb tide, hold your breath until the shore is hidden once more. green algae, silken soft, fills the spaces where silence once lay. symphonies i can’t hear, playing through everyone else's minds.
rabbit-footed and tender, the beat of an eye, the space where hope is held. chalk crushed under a rock, washed away with the rain. it's like nothing was ever there. nothing was ever there.