Drift Kindly

Shape they do,

these vague conspirators -

delusions of design in the growl of my thoughts -

attaching myself to any I,

foreseeing my accidents before I do,

curling me up in the pillows of incompleteness –


dread and dead, I am fish mouthed



I would give you up, in kindness –

this on the dip of a sell by date,

my loop of being so unsure is not your

mistake –

it is not your boulder to carry plump

in your vest.

An orange rind teased away,

I am a bitter handed –


do not rub your eye in the zest.


Catastrophic and dumb,

gossiped in by my own yapping, I’ll sear

a piece of this stretch of tongue and bow you in

somewhere else to be -

safe, a sorry exhales –

and reason this, your way with purity,


a clasp of a shell –

the comfort lulls, sea breathed,

slipping from my hand.





◄ War Quiet

Pure ►


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