Writing

Leaves brush my neck.

Winter breathes and stirs my legs.

I taste the pebbles on my tongue,

blades of grass coat my lungs.

The gravel strains my curves.

I don’t have much to give

But please experience my tides

My entire being clings onto you tonight

As we dance under this midnight

Your gut curdles.

Your skull stays stiff.

Your flesh shakes,

your feet are wet.

The world can’t fit

inside your shell.

Your skin splits —

False memories might betray me but,

i think i used to look up this street, and dream,

dream about becoming one with the pavement

where the road met the sunlight

I could almost taste the harshness,

A secret 

A choice 

Back then, we were just so 

Oblivious and so insensible 

To the clear misunderstanding 

right in front of our faces 

October 17th, 2025. 3:35 pm 

I go to the woodshop 

Grab some cardboard 

Walk over to the weeping willows 

Find a large stick and 

Break off the uneven twigs