for dreams & things that never stayed, i found myself a flustered fish.
of all my failed arts, i tongue the sadness of this poem & of myself. but
the derangement from corroded nights & the sandpapered feet of a swayed angel bearing his own name stayed, like
life, wrapped in a grain of earth\'s dust, so everyone cries. love stood,
like the distance betwixt two lost lovers & a chained city full of folded arms awaiting trial.
perhaps, no one knows if i was alive —the rise-run, another death race to finish. i am a body left behind by another, gone at twilight & left betwixt a fladry & a field of blossoming flowers.
saline silhouette of lost shapes travelled from the lips of god, only
somnolent lids could stare. shadows, walked the thin lines in the pages of a ghost story—but ghosts do not know my backyard, only the room where i found traces of a faint feet at 3am. i\'ll never get to see him again; another sad poem of closure, an utter rummaging of self bitterness into a silver night littered with portraits of godevils.
.i found myself a flustered fish.
then, emerged a vista of fallen angels, like the ghosts that do not know nighness, everything within me felt light, lighter than the feather of a dragon fly.
you leaned on my chest, stuttering songs of a violent tendril, breathing slowly, i could trace the air like the memories you left on the collar bone of everyone.
perhaps, a near death & the innocence between this sadness
dissolved into another home of stifling smoke. now, when
i am a broken tibia, your winged wheelchair flew me past the faces of these sad poems & the pages of many ghost stories.
.i found myself a flustered fish.