#wingedpiglets

i say i’ll be back soon knowing full well soon may not be soon enough no matter if it’s now or in your final moments it is going to break my heart, i know i am denying the inevitable whether or not this is the last time, i must learn to say goodbye

dust constantly collected on the windowsills  and in the corners  of the room, but i liked that because  i always knew where to find it.  a firm mattress was my muse,  pulling words like taffy pulling poetry that left a sweetness on my tongue and a purpose almost as defined, as solid, as sturdy as the walls. this was home home until i grew too big and my limbs tore down the frame. all that remains: my body, full of splinters  and a yearning for the way the sleepy sun shone through the windows.

i reside in what i don't own what isn't home what isn't mine anymore.  i reach for hands i once found shelter in, i slip on my feet and scrape the bottom of this circulating stream. i once sought structure in the scattered. i'm carried off to go somewhere i do not know that isn't mine that isn't home.

I Am (Nothing Without) Poetry

You’re Where They Were All Born

I Don’t Miss Your Hands

It's hard to settle for bits and pieces of someone you used to swallow whole.