Oddly, you're
calming to me...

Another poem to my depression:
You are what I slip on...

Thursday, 7/28/16 11:30 am
I buzz in through the backdoor...

The morning after…
Don’t worry how I slept or the empty...

You said the April sun
would breathe us closer...

We sit here
and wait...

I thought confiding in you would be the cure of...
now the only comfort I have is kidnapping words...

I can't keep you from
rising in my heart...

Your soul is a harvest gold
phone booth...

Last night, I had a dream­
that she was dying...

And I'll wear cardigans
at the start of August...

I don't care about touch, what
chases me is not tangible but...