it’s the sound of
tin under muffled...
grief is a rusted faucet
i keep checking...
Time is the missing
perfection ticking to sew...
The cruelest is yet to come—you’re incapable...
is that too bold of me to claim...
The irony in the life’s enthusiasm
is the cocoon of caterpillars’ transmutation...
An unbitten apple
is the apple that is dined by its own worms...
When you are rock-solid you think you are forever,
before time breaks you down to the pieces...
Following a winding path up a hill...
you
speak of...
The pain is adjacent to love—it’s why it hurts...
Some odd years ago, I plucked courage like wild...
a foot hands
the armless man...
at bedtime
my eyelids...