the grieving winds
slow the pace
of progress;
lighted bends
slick with your spittle
caresses of the wilderness
broken bodies
scarlet past
smoking my worries
in a manufactured liquid
uh! the seepage is disparaging
clues of newness
bisect tears
held at bay with bewilderment;
so slow the progress
so unorganized
so blue
the words are soft
like spoken kisses
drubbing at my staleness
prodding at my inertia
making a lull
tying a knot
pushing the boulder
is kind of exhausting
maybe i’ll let it roll...
watching passively
expecting nothing
just watching
and then i will pick my eyes up.
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