Wasps and Frog Eggs

Fungus spores spread, infections of unrequited love. Persecuted by a higher authority. I fill the tunnels of my misunderstood sexuality with lungs big enough to breathe in cities, with doors unable to open. My body is blue and made of fires. Two different perspectives, lingering. In the air, cloud vapour. I believe in the words I put on paper, all the poems I've left in the dust. Forgotten and unloved. Today I varnished the seams. I finally understood the language of my teenage peregrinations, in between city buildings and despondent blue mountains. Daylight shined through the gaps in the clouds. Origami unfolding in my mouth. I thought about the burden of knowledge, the tribulations I know so well, how I come to the edge and relapse, and succumb to the desires I can't avoid, when I had planned to bleed out. I'm left in these soils, left to cogitate about how I came to be here, smiling through tears. How could I possibly persevere, lopsided in these regrets I've accumulated? I exit rooms like I am water. I enter ears incapable of listening. Incapable of holding anything valuable. I erase memories, bad experiences, things I don't want to think about. I live in the moment.