like water, i was

breathe out in slowness, the wires that run you through. your eyes don't crack, and your skin doesn't leave you. and take a sip from your lists, and a bug bite that keeps your thoughts. this was so important, that stills the gun, and climbs to the wall.

you will be happy for him. if you've learned anything it is that while happiness inflicts, it is of ghost barbs, and head locks.

be happy for him to be free. let go something you cannot.

do not move—it is okay—but make maps, of how the body will walk from this place. it may repeat—repeat—it may repeat, and trap, but there is trying. conjure that love from even the smallest moment—you are trying—

we can not always be great, or what you need.

and I hope you know I spit fire in every winter.

(my greatest fear, always, that never shakes—I try to work towards something, and the way there feels weak—your eyes are imaginary and, cruel. the dread that I speak only clockwork—and—you,—that—arch—stare—dividing.)

well, I hate my writing, it's all the same, when it drips like posture, my head just hangs.

—a dizzying splendor is here resigned to fate.