nemo

toasted

white peaks and burnt with mud.

the barren trees at the edge of my periphery remind me of veins,

grasping at straws

skinny and tender.

the red sky at the edge of noon reminds me of rust,

strained

and stained with rain.

the lonely fruit at the edge of time reminds me of us,

drunk

poisoned and hungry.

the vague emotion at the edge of my skull reminds me of something ive forgotten,

something

one-ways

a little bit of honey

whenwhenwhenwhenwhenwhen

when

when

perhaps it’d make us feel cool.

Perhaps it’d make us reflect.  The smell of the earth, in the air and in the dirt.

Resonating in our voices.

We knew it, after all.

We knew it would end but we didn't care.

Im hoping You’ll see me

through the crack of Your door.

Waiting to think of a reason to open it

You

left it open for a reason.

I think I like being alone sometimes.

it may be the only singleness I feel

alone with myself.

And that is probably okay.

Only with my thoughts can I comprehend

the things I feel towards the

outerness.

If that even is a word.

The single stillness of the outside

dripping just-freezing water beside my

ears.

On a porch beside my own I just want to

emit the emotions of singleness.

That I can appreciate.

"You are my solace," I tell to Your burning

body drifting away.

"On a day that is muddled of

the only sight that is singled of

consumerism and dualism.

You are us meeting for a cup of coffee. And later that night

a drink of meade. Our night is of recklessness and

delusion. For experiment and disgrace

We meet and adjourn