Saturday, July 4, 2015

the kid that wouldn't die.

this truth is without luster: i am
bored.

something is shiftless, pressuring
the self into irreparable
wounds-

where rejections are sacred. new languages
manifest themselves there,

picked and picked

until only bareness remains.
it forgot its place until
the very second it was the last thing left- this moment,
it is obvious to me, is the beginning of death-

overzealous to interpret "real" movement.

it remains
hush-hush about what "real" means to itself-

real being the impossible visualization.

it isn't home. it is not a thing of my home.
i am not ready to step out
on my own.

this immune system believes in weakness.

still i'm not gone.

god, god, leave me alone.