Woe is me, obviously.
you should know this if you’ve ever truly kissed
the broken and the menders
the fates have spoken / so that’s all
you try not looking despite your curiosity
try to otherwise
until you make up your mind / to learn to fly
What hierarchy / suggests / your impending / fruitions?
because all people everywhere / know that knowing causes / the greatest sorrow
It’s just a matter / of how many layers / of “me” you release
what good / is the awe / of stars / if we see / only that / we are / worlds apart?
poor books, / I will pick you / up off the carpet / one day
This writing is less the craft heavy and prosody poised work that keeps process hidden behind closed doors of the poet’s writing studio and their intellectual hesitance, and more the freestyle, live over home-made beats push for moments of flow.
might / watch / the Matrix Trilogy & / drink / a 2 litre
… moment spent beside / the self upon which my / self wrests presented / me with such an alarm / I could not //
It was high time / I got out of there
where a mouse sees the future or a rabbit causes an earthquake to tear the ancient hospital apart.