moon milk

hair down, unwound,

your comely baby’s here too.

He said you dropped the moon.

I said, “Boy, you’re nothing but drama,

always blaming your woes on your trauma.”

“It’s true,” he said.

“I’ll prove it, too.”

I scoffed,

then chose to believe he was dead.

“I’m not your muse,”

I muttered under my breath.

He leaves everyone

in his wake blue.

where laurel leaves might have been

mean absolutely nothing to me

i curse the fire not seen

i get so lonely lately

so alone

i don’t know where to put my hands

i cut my corners like a feeling

but i feel it now

you close my eyes

and now i see

animosity fits me like a glove

i’m frustrated because i want to write but i feel like there is nothing good and of substance inside me

i’ve out written myself

i’m all written out

the shimmery puddle in my soul calls out but i can’t translate it yet

i”m still hazy

or she hates me like i hate me lately

it’s a full moon tonight and you know what my mouth is full of? questions.

when will it be my time?

when will the dominoes fall?

what am i meant for?

will i be alright?

i’m hoping god doesn’t deem me too useless tonight

or he might blot my soul away

i fear a lot lately

you are addicted to the sweetest rush ever since it started

you hide behind such neglect and can’t confront the pain

retreat behind the tree in guise of night

there’s not much left to cry

no wonder you’re surprised

you won’t see much freed

no, it won’t take hold until you let it go

behind the tree in guise of night

you can’t be so out of touch

for anyone that cares.