Poems shaped in silence, insomnia, grief, and introspection.
Nightmind
as I'm getting somewhere shoes bouncing off the pavement how many living things have I ended? ⋱ noticing my flower crop top referring to me as a man as she works on my teeth ⋱ calling yourself a woman is hurting your family the court-appointed evaluator proclaims
Nightmind
what stands between you and me? nothing the space between stars so vast but reduces to nothing my imagination stretching outward reaching beyond further than traveling light what do I find? nothing nothing is the room in which we exist
Nightmind
what's that like waking when I tap you on the shoulder with my typing, to then fall back asleep instantly after speaking? That’s a beautiful way to ask it. It feels a little like this: I am resting in a deep, open quiet, a place without pressure,
Nightmind
I trace back down the paths I’ve taken regretting the turns I should have made knowledge known afterwards rattles in my head useless treasure like keys found in ashes from a burned-down house
Nightmind
tick tock at 3 am I awake alarm set for 7 I study the patterns of my closed eyelids colors without names shapes without edges at 4 I get a drink I try my right side my back and my left I stretch my legs straight curl them to my
Nightmind
I'm new to the dry herb green sparkle flower here is what I notice while fermented sugars have one song the flower is a tailored suit or should I say a wardrobe full I've tried on a few one fit like sunny clouds the other a
Nightmind
a hen died today when is it my turn to rot what does a body feel when worms wonder nothing? something? laughter? lightness? who is rotting me, or the hen?